Just A Day In DC
by ForTheTrees
Summary: Zach's mission involves getting to know Cammie. And, more importantly, what she knows. Will the beginning of his mission give him answers, or just a new crush? And how about doing the Circle's dirty work on the side? Cammie won't put down her walls, so Zach will just have to break them down. My take on CMH... R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**I'm not Ally Carter, obviously. Though some pieces of dialogue are taken directly from CMH… And United We Spy isn't out yet here, so please no spoilers for me. This is T for minor swearing…This is my longest and most time consuming fic yet, so… show some love?**

_"She fell for a boy. I bet she'll fall for another. Are you up for it?"_

_"How hard could it be?"_

_"Your mission will be acquainting yourself closely with Chameleon. She's very important. We would like some information from her."_

_"What information?"_

_"How much she _really_ knows." _

It's been two weeks, one day, seventeen hours, thirteen minutes, and fifty seven seconds since my mother gave me my first mission as a member of The Circle. 

_"You'll be betraying your mother. Your father did that once. Are you up for it?"_

_"Hell yeah. Bring it on."_

_"She'll give you a mission concerning Chameleon. This agent is important. Protect them. The Circle wants some information, desperately."_

_"What information?"_

_"That, I do not know."_

It's been two weeks, four days, twelve hours, forty-one minutes, and nine seconds since Joseph Solomon gave me my first mission as a double agent. Nonetheless, he was unsurprisingly accurate. 

Let's just say that my summer break from Blackthorne kept me busy with non-sanctioned mission briefings. 

My last week of summer should've been filled with pool visits, friends, and all-nighters, if I had a normal life. But, that would be _very_ far from the truth. Believe me. 

But, of course, I got clandestine meetings in dark alleys during the graveyard hours. Not that I'm complaining. I signed up for this life when I took my mother up on her offer of going to Blackthorne. 

She wouldn't have let me say no anyway. She has major control issues and major violence issues; those two _do not_ mix well. Have I mentioned how much I absolutely _hate_ my mother? When she found out that Dad was a double agent working against her, she called up some big guys with big guns. And soon enough, Dad was in a casket. 

She denied having known anything about his death. Said he must've made some enemies while he was in Brazil. But I watched her pick up that phone to dial that number several times. All of which resulted in someone disappearing. 

But the past is the past, and, unfortunately, there's nothing I can change. I sit in my room, doing some research on _Chameleon_ through Langley's databases, looking for anything. I recently discovered that her name is Cameron Ann Morgan. Don't ask me anything else, because I couldn't tell you. 

Still searching on my computer, a flag finally appeared under Cameron's name. I opened the tab. A report from Langley popped up. I skimmed through the article to pick up little pieces of information. It was mostly about some relationship fiasco and her debriefing. Must've been recent if it hasn't been taken down yet. 

She's sixteen, goes by Cammie, attends The Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women and her only relationship was forbidden, and ended with a forklift through an abandoned warehouse. She most certainly sounds like a catch. 

As I continued digging up more from the short article, the door to my room slams open, hitting the wall. 

"Damn, Zach, I'm telling you: you missed some serious babes. But yet you're _still_ stalking that girl. Honestly, it's never going to happen." Grant noticed the grainy picture of a brunette on my monitor. "You could just stick with some chicks from here, dude. Less hassle. Same girls." 

"Ignore him. He's too stupid to comprehend anything other than what's for lunch." My more intelligent roommate, Jonas, whipped his shirt at Grant. 

"How was Belmont?" They had just returned from town day. I had stayed behind to research Chameleon. 

"Those girls that I was telling you about-" 

"Oh shut up, numbskull" This time, Jonas slapped our idiotic bunkmate. "I see you found something new. You'll have to show us after CoveOps." Now changed back into their jumpsuits, Grant and Jonas headed toward the door. 

With that, I close the laptop and head out the doors. Chameleon could wait.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

But we never made it to class. We were stopped by one of our teachers. "Gentlemen. Change. Now. "Mr. Marshall, our Artillery & Ammunition instructor, threw brown paper bags at each of us. "Roof, in five minutes. Go." He was never one to beat around the bush. 

We all headed back to the rooms and threw on the new clothes. In my bag are dark jeans, a white T-shirt and a grey hoodie. Must be a mission in town. After we all got back into town clothes, we dashed up to the roof. There, we found a surprise. A surprise that meant it wasn't just a trip down to Belmont. 

"Excellent! We're all here! Boys, hop on!" Dr. Steve waved all fifteen boys on to a waiting helicopter. Jonas, Grant and I were the only ones from our sophomore class. 

The headmaster threw a duffel bag at me. It was full of even more clothes. On top was a pair of slacks, a dress shirt, and a tie. Each of us had our own bag. 

Weren't we in for a surprise?

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

We touched down shortly after, arriving at an airport. There, a private jet waited for us.

"This isn't just an impromptu mission. This is going to last a while." Jonas finally drew that observation. As smart as he was, he was rather thick,

"No shit, Sherlock." As flirtatious as he was with the ladies, Grant was not one for sugarcoating.

Oh, brother.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

One hour, fifty four minutes, and twelve seconds later, I'm highly surprised that I didn't strangle either of my friends. Grant spent the entire plane ride thumb wrestling with Jonas (I happened to sit in the middle), snoring loudly with his head on my shoulder, or telling me how pathetic I am because I didn't hook up with any girls from Belmont yet.

Jonas, when he wasn't thumb wresting, studied. Or obsessed about the plane's safety precautions. Or lectured me on the history of modern flight. Sometimes all at once.

Thankfully, I am a spy. And spies have incredible patience. Unfortunately, I had to endure another two hours. This time, we'd be driving. Yay for me.

After a painful two hours of, yes, more thumb wrestling, we parked in front of a motel. This place was a dump. Peeling paint, a few shattered windows, and doors that the locks could be picked in a matter of seconds. Or just kicked through. But I've stayed in way worse places when I was with my mom.

Just as we all get out of the van, a black SUV whips around the corner and into the parking lot. There's a moment of surprise before my favorite person in the whole wide world gets out.

"Well boys, I guess you all get a challenge this semester. Here are your folders. Study up." Joseph Solomon handed me a manila folder, slapped my shoulder, and winked. He moved on to Grant.

I opened the folder. The top sheet of paper read:

**Subject: Chameleon  
Objective: Tail Subject to Rendezvous Point**

Absolutely perfect.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

"Alright, gentlemen. Time to play the game. Get in." Joe tossed a set of keys to a senior and one to . It was about 6:00 am. By now, we've figured out that we were near D.C. "See you at the mall. Actually. I shouldn't." With that, he drove off.

Each of us had to tail a Gallagher Girl. Jonas and a few others didn't because they were on the "Research and Development Track" You see, in Gallagher, they divide. Jonas has CoveOps at Blackthorne, but he chose to opt out of that class for a semester. Wimp. Obviously, Grant and I chose CoveOps over sitting at a desk. 

We all piled into the vans and drove to the busiest place in D.C.: the mall.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

"Come on, dude. Let's just get some pizza. Please? I'm starving!" My bottomless pit of a friend walked next to me as we walked around the Reflecting Pool. He had been begging since we got off the van. 

"Fine. We'll go get something. The girls are going to be here in a bit, though, so watch." I finally relented, because I was hungry now. I pulled out a few bills and handed Grant five dollars. We walked for a couple minutes until we found some vending machines. After he finished getting some chips, I bought a pack of M&Ms. I put my hand up to insert another dollar, but I looked in the reflection of the glass. 

Two girls on the sidewalk behind us reversed directions. 

"Let's go." 

"Dude! What? Let me eat!" 

"Game on. I found them." It was quite easy, though. They had suddenly flipped. The taller one looked to the left. They seemed suspicious of something. No one else would've noticed, but it takes one to know one. 

Grant stuffed his horde of food into his pockets and we started to walk on the opposite sides of the street. They matched the vague descriptions we were given. We followed them until they started to cross the street. I turned to go into the park that was on our left. 

"I'm sitting. I'm tired." Man, for a kick-ass assassin, he was rather lazy. 

"Fine. Keep watching." He sat on a bench immediately inside the grassy area. 

Grant's target twirled around, smiling stunning bright teeth. My friend didn't bother hiding his grin. We were teenage boys. We're allowed to stare at a pretty girl. Without, you know, looking like a complete stalker. But we just so happened to be of the stalker variety. 

The girls turned and saw Grant and me obviously checking them out. The tall, dark skinned operative flashed a smile and said something to her friend then giggled. Cammie said something back, but grabbed her sleeve and dragged her away. I wish either was facing me, so I could've read their lips.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

After following them for about an hour, (without them noticing: absolutely amateur), they were finally taking it seriously. They both crossed the grass and entered the Smithsonian. We followed, and then looked around. Sadly, Grant noticed them first. He pointed them out to me just in time to see them join a large group of white blouse-clad girls. Their plaid skirts were covered be their blazers around their waists. Hiding in plain sight. Not bad. Getting better, girls. 

"Let's move." Grant and I walked to the escalator that the group of girls was climbing. They were all giggling and staring at us. Cammie and her friend turned around to see what the others were looking at. She looked at me, then over my shoulder, then back at me. I winked. She turned back. 

When they reached the top, they split. 

"Go chase your girl, Goode." 

I headed toward the elevator while Grant went off down the hallway. 

I saw her look up and notice me following her. Her hand came up to press the button to close the door. I got there first. 

"Hey," I walked in then reached for the button to close the doors.

"Hi." Her guard was up. I couldn't tell if this was good or bad, because, as a spy, it should be up. But it should not be noticed.

I leaned back against the wall of the elevator, finally getting a good look at her. She was average height, with average looking hair, and just looked _average_. But she was actually sort of pretty. I didn't like her or anything. But, she wasn't hideous. And she was checking me out. Subtly, though. _Was I Doing it subtly?!_ My inner teenage boy took over. I forced spy-me to resurface.

Her uniform basically screamed "rich girl from a snooty school!" I think that we'd all have a _bit _of trouble acting like we belong there.

"So, the Guggenheim Academy-"

"_Gallagher_ Academy." Wow. Attitude check.

"Never heard of it. Anyway, you seem like you're in a hurry" I really wanted to see how easily I could get information from her.

"Yes, actually. I have twenty minutes to get to the ruby slipper exhibit." Really? That was too easy. Maybe my missions from Mom and Solomon would be easier than I thought.

"How do you know?"

"Because he said 'meet me at the ruby slipper exhibit.'"

"I meant about the time. You don't wear a watch." Her lies needed perfecting, that's for sure.

"My friend told me." I make her nervous. Inwardly, I smirked_. She was cute when she squirmed_. I mentally slapped myself.

"Why are you fidgeting?"

"Sorry, low blood sugar. I need to eat."

I felt the pack of M&Ms that I had eaten plenty of while following her. She probably was hungry. We'd been here for hours. "Here, I already ate a lot, though."

"Uh, no thanks. I'm fine." I put the candy back in my pocket. More for me.

After an excruciatingly long and semi awkward ride up, the doors opened. She seemed to dart out. I casually strolled behind her. I don't think she liked that.

"Where are you going?"

"Escorting you to the ruby slippers. Don't you want company?" She already told me where she was going. I might as well follow her. Cammie had mad this mission depressingly easy.

"No." Seriously, this girl had major attitude problems.

"It's dark. You're a pretty girl." She tensed when I said that. I really needed to keep this professional and hold back on the flirting. A pretty girl hasn't stopped me before. _But she's more than that_. And what's up with my mushy thoughts today? "And, you only have fifteen minutes left."

"Fine." She immediately started walking, fast. She actually was pretty speedy.

"Do you have a name?" Keeping up my cover as the flirty, stalkerish boy in D.C, I needed to pretend like I already didn't know this crap.

"Sure, lots of them."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No, and honestly, I'm not interested." A low blow to my inflated ego. Don't tell anyone, but I was secretly glad to hear her say that. "Thanks for the chivalry and all, but the exhibit's right up there, and the there's a cop over there."

"You don't think I'd do as well a job of protecting you as he would? Come on, have some faith." I would've been offended, but she didn't really know me.

"No, I'll scream, and you'll be arrested." Cammie replied. And I detected hint of flirtatiousness. Well then, _someone's_ interested. And I was glad her wall was down, or at least seemed like it. "Thanks, anyway."

I backed away. "Bye, then." She walked up the last flight of stairs. I wasn't very far behind. I waited outside the doorway, listening.

"You're late." _Solomon_? Teaching _girls_? Didn't seem like his forte.

"But I'm alone."

I decided to make my presence known. "Hi again, Gallagher Girl." And cue my notorious smirk.

"Nice work, Zach." Solomon said, smoothly.

Something seemed to click in Cammie's mind. "Hey, Blackthorne Boy."

_Shit. What. How? I said nothing! All I did was ask questions!_ Solomon seemed just as surprised as I was. I guess I should have given her more credit. She must've done her homework.

Just as she turned her head away, I started to move. I was gone before she looked up.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

"So, how was the mall? Were they any good? Were they hot? Are they smart, because-"

"Jonas! Can it, already," Jonas was way too excited and Grant was way too hungry. "But you should know, my girl was hot! She-"

"All girls are the same for you. How was _Chameleon_, Zach?"

"Well, first off: not as good as us. We followed them for about an hour, then I cornered Cammie,"

"Did you lay on the charm thick? Is she in love with the almighty Zach?" Grant was still mad that Jonas wouldn't let him talk.

"Shut it, Grant. Anyway, Jonas, Cammie was good. She kept rolling out the lies. Some had holes, but they were nonstop. And she was pretty. I guess. Lightish brown hair, dark blue eyes, average looking. She seriously had an attitude. Like, I would say something, and she would snap back. It was irritating. But in the end, she flirted back, and-" the next part I mumbled, "called me Blackthorne Boy."

"Oooh, it sounds like Zach has a crush on Cammie!" Grant said and Jonas looked up from his computer. "And we'll be staying with them all semester!

Solomon had cleared up at the motel before we left that we would be staying at Gallagher Academy for the semester.

A whole semester to gain her trust, learn what she knows, and tell Solomon what my mom wants to figure out. I had a feeling that this mission will either be a piece of cake or almost impossible. I bet on the latter. I was given rather vague instructions. "Find out what she knows." Geez. Thanks, Mother. _What on Earth did Cammie know? Why was it important?_

Oh well, all in a day's work as a spy.

And now I have to deal with this crush. She better be worth it._  
_

**OK. For the record:  
1.) I am female. Zach is male. Therefore, it may not sound like Zach. I'm sorry.  
2.) My tenses were weird. I think I fixed it. Honestly, idk. If you see any typos PLEASE tell me in a PM, I'm obsessive with that stuff.  
3.) I was bored, sick, and lonely when I wrote 90% of this… so yeah.**

**4.) Some was proof-read more than other parts. Sorry if the consistency is off.**

Thank you for reading! I really hope you enjoyed! Reviews, pretty please?


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter's existence is dedicated to:**

**Bruised tulips**

**Georgerogers01**

**Purplebutterfly12**

**FandomOverload**

**Gymgirl904**

**Kapril**

**And last but not least: BunnySwag101**

**Seriously, you started this snowball of madness. You better review. Seriously. Click that button. and all the rest of you up there, too. (You really don't have to, but I did it all for you *puppy dog eyes*) Anyways, thanks to you and to all the other readers, followers, favoriters, and reviewers. And I still do not own Zach. :( Sooooo, let's see where this thing goes... Honestly: I have no clue ;D**

•~*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

Could I tell you how tired I was of sitting in the middle of a thumb wrestling competition? It sucked. We were all on our way to Gallagher. It was only an hour long helicopter flight, then another hour by van. But add the thumb wrestling; I was already planning their inconspicuous and quiet deaths. Not really. But I was almost there.

"Man, I'm telling you, wearing a tie is awful. I hate to say this, but I sort of miss the jumpsuits." Grant tugged at his collar, attempting to loosen the tie.

"Suck it up, dude. Honestly, we're going to be around some girls. How do you think the girls would like our _fabulous_ prison jumpsuits?" My head was already going fuzzy from thinking of Cammie. How pathetic was that? Two weeks of Internet stalking and one conversation, and I was already going insane? What the hell?

Not that I showed any signs of going absolutely mental. After the idiots joked about how I was _in love_ with Cammie, I finally shut them up by saying that she was flirting too, so I needed to keep up my cover. It may or may not have worked. It wasn't one of my better lies, I'll admit that.

Our van pulled to a stop. "Are you boys ready for a hike? Excellent! Let's get a move on!"

It turned out that it was only a twenty minute walk from the highway exit we took. We've had way worse.

We could already see the walls. "Damn, I didn't know we were dealing with princesses." Grant was right, it looked like a palace compared to Blackthorne.

"And we're supposed to be the knights in shining armor? Not likely." Marcus, a senior, scoffed. "So, what's the deal, Dr. Steve? Do we just walk in, or is there a catch?"

"Excellent question, Mr. Nichols, but it's never that easy, now is it? I'm sorry, but today it actually is that easy. We are their guests." He pressed a button, and a few seconds later, the gates opened. No traps, no lasers, no SWAT team.

That easy? Really?

•~*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

"Okay gentlemen, right now, headmistress Morgan are giving a speech, and when she's finished we will go in and I will introduce myself. You boys will stand in the front, _quietly_. Remember, you aren't the delinquents from Blackthorne. You all are the polite, well behaved, young men from Blackthorne Institution." always rambled when he was doing something new. I think it's safe to say he's never been alone with fifteen teenage assassins in an all-girls school. It's a first for everybody.

Dr. Steve pushed open the doors, and one hundred surprised girls swiveled their heads. I stood on the edge, smirking. /trained spies my ass. Jaws up, ladies. / They weren't even trying to hide their surprise, or attraction.

Naturally, my eyes wandered to the one girl I wanted to see. Cammie. She looked bored. She scanned the lineup of guys, until she saw me. Her eyes widened, I winked at her.

"And let us welcome the young men from the Blackthorne Institution!" The girls seemed to come out of their trance, and lightly applauded. Dr. Steve walked to the front of the room to give his spiel. Cammie was still staring at me, like I was a ghost.

Did she not want to see me? I thought she might've liked me too. I guess I have to change her mind.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

Dr. Steve was leading each group of boys to their class. Eighth grade, freshman, and now us.

And, of course, nervous Jonas was blabbing away. "Was Cammie the one who was staring at you? What did you say to her? I think she thought you were weird, she wouldn't look away. But it wasn't 'Oh, there he is' it was more like 'Oh no. There he is!' Seriously, were you acting all weird, because since she's been trained to not react, being a spy and all, but she was shocked. It's most likely out of her pattern of behavior. Also-"

Grant shoved him. "Dude. Seriously. Shut it."

"Gentlemen, please behave. Oh! Excellent! Here we are." He opened the door to find the entire sophomore class staring at us. "Hello. I'm Dr. Steve. These are the boys. Now, go ahead, introduce yourself."

Grant shoved Jonas, but, miraculously, the girls didn't notice. "Uh, well. I'm Jonas." He pushed up his glasses. "I am on the Research and Development track. And I'm a sophomore."

"Thus your enrollment in this class." Hey, I think I like this teacher.

"Would one of these lovely girls be a guide?" Dr. Steve asked, to no one in particular.

A dark haired girl kicked the back of another girl's chair. She grunted. Unfortunately for her, that's a yes in 's language. "Excellent!" Jonas, blushing, sat next to the equally red-faced blonde.

"Grant." He sat next to the dark skinned girl from the mall. All the other girls still stared at him. Yes, I'll admit, he's the more attractive friend. Not by much.

"I'm Zach. And I think I found my guide." I slid into the chair next to Cammie. She turned a faint shade of pink.

All through the class, I watched her. She watched Mr. Smith. I kept staring at her. She wouldn't acknowledge me. It wasn't like Mr. Smith was teaching anything I didn't know. She took notes, but among the notes about Islamic countries, were flower doodles and stars. She knew what we were talking about, too.

My mom taught me all this when she first enlisted me into the Circle. How to block off the countries, make them hate each other, and wage war. I knew the basics, and then how to annihilate them.

As the bell rang, I finally spoke. "So, how's it been going, Gallagher Girl?"

"Fine. Thank you." I wished she was more open. Not just because Solomon wanted information, but I was genuinely curious. But, no. All I got was a simple pleasantry, vague, and obviously not the girl in DC. Why couldn't she start flirting again?

"Where are you taking me, Gallagher Girl?"

"What's with the nickname? My name is Cammie." I though she might've appreciated my pet name for her. Well, I was mistaken. I was still going to call her that, though.

"You go to Gallagher Academy, and you are a girl. Am I wrong for saying either of those?" Damn, she was cute when she was flustered. Or irritated. Or both. Truthfully, I don't have a clue. Of all the things in the world: girls are the most confusing.

"That's correct. But I'll have you know, we're going to _Culture and Assimilation_," Wait? Culture. You've got to be kidding me. "It couldn't do you any harm." She smirked. Wow. She had some serious attitude. But I'm glad she's not being so cold.

"Lead on, _Gallagher Girl_."

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

Let's just say, _Culture_ is not my favorite class. I've been so many places with my mom, and met so many people. That class does not do anything for me. But apparently, Grant thinks I need some manners.

"Seriously, Zach! You were acting like an ass! Why couldn't you have just been nice to her? They're girls. You're not supposed to pick fights. Under all that makeup, they are vicious beasts!"

"Oh yeah? How about your _British Bombshell_?" I poked fun at his nickname for Bex. And Cammie though Gallagher Girl was bad?

"Well, at least I'm not obsessing over a girl I've known for, what? Three days?" He was pushing my buttons, and he knew it. And then, the playful banter turned into something not so playful.

"I'm not obsessing!" I jabbed a finger at his chest. We were in our "dorms". They were actually just random walls put up in the East Wing. But, eh, there was plenty of room to fight it out.

"Are you sure?" He rose to his full height. Which was, unfortunately, two inches taller than me. "I think your lovey-dovey eyes and flirty comments beg to differ." Normally, we were not as harsh to each other, but there is only a certain amount of time you can spend with someone before you want to strangle them. I think Grant had been with me a few hours too many.

I reeled back my fist, ready to slug him, I didn't care if he saw it coming, but I wanted it to hurt.

"Gentlemen, what do you think you're doing? It's supper time! Put the fists away and come eat!"

Save by the pudgy headmaster. Grant got lucky.

•~*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

**Um. Ok. So this was going to be a one shot, but a few favorites, follows and reviews, and voila, chapter 2. I am currently debating whether to continue this longer. (If you want me to, you gotta tell me what you want to see) I already told a few I would, but that was really late at night, and now I'm thinking, LOL, no. But, now, I'm like, haha, this could work… But, haha, yeah. Plot lines aren't really my thing.**

***Drum roll please* UNITED WE SPY! I don't want to spoil anything for the poor souls who haven't read it yet. If you need a fangirl buddy, my PM is always available. ;) Or if you're bored. I'm bored a lot. Thus my FF account. Haha, LOL, see ya later my fellow fangirls!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi! I'm officially going to continue this. So you all have gotta be super nice. So, I guess this'll mostly be CMH plot line, but with a few twists and bonus scenes...? Zach is still not mine... BLARGH.**

And this chapter is officially dedicated to BruisedTulips and FandomOverload. They dealt with my rambling PMs patiently and constantly. Everyone who adds an alert or review gets a PM, but these chicks (assuming you're girls, this is one of the girliest series ever) got like 10 each. Thanks!

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

I angrily jabbed at my lasagna. Stupid Grant, stupid girls, stupid mushrooms. Who eats mushrooms anyways? I piled them off to the side, shoveled the noodles in my mouth, and thought about Grant. Honestly, I don't even know why we fought. After broiling on our almost-fight for about ten minutes, I realized how stupid it was. Do you want to know my theory? Girls are crazy, crazy is contagious; therefore, Grant and I are infected with the crazies.

"Why are there mushrooms? I hate mushrooms." Speak of the devil. Grant dropped his tray on the table and slapped my back. "Sorry for being an ass. But you were, too."

"Whatever. Are we cool?" Apparently, he came to the same conclusion.

"Yeah. We're cool. "

Jonas sat across from us. "I swear you two act like women with PMS. Get over yourselves. And what's your deal with mushrooms?" He took a huge bite.

"Shut it. How's your little blonde friend?" Grant teased. This was almost how our fight started, but we all knew Jonas didn't give a shit. And why would you pick on nerdy Jonas, it's like murdering a puppy. It just wouldn't happen.

"Liz and she's great. She's more on my intellectual level than the two of you nitwits." He ate another bite, trying to hide his reddening face.

"Stop eating the damn mushrooms! And where are all the girls? They're late."

"I heard one of them screaming about a hair curler. Who knows?"

As if on cue, the doors burst opened and girls started pouring in. All the guys were already there, chowing down on lasagna and breadsticks. Their heads looked up, and then returned to their food. I scanned the swarm of girls, looking for Cammie.

Damn it, not here. Grant looked disappointed to see that Bex was missing, too. And he said I'm whipped.

I think the girls were trying to impress us. Their hair and faces looked different than at breakfast. But all I could tell you was that makeup was involved. That's it. My expertise in that field was _extremely_ limited. They all seemed upset that we didn't really care. We are from a juvenile delinquent center. The superficial things don't really matter to us anymore; it's been pounded out of us.

Finally, the flow of girls finally slowed to a trickle. And lo and behold: Cammie, Bex, Liz, and Macey showed up. They all walked to get their food, and then sat down.

I stood and walked back to the serving station, where Mr. Solomon was standing, looking across the room.

"How are you enjoying Gallagher?" He said, still watching, observing.

"Beats Blackthorne. No midnight drills, no hard cots, and no mountain hikes." I joined him in scanning the crowd.

"What _does_ she know? I'm just as curious as you are." Joe asked, assuming, correctly, that I wanted to talk about the mission.

"I have absolutely no clue. I'm waiting until she mentions something related to 'the Circle', 'radical Muslims', or 'terrorists'." Once again, I was pondering what the hell I was supposed to do for my mission. "Something of that sorts."

"She thinks the Circle's a myth. That's how it's taught here. 'An ancient, radical group meant to destroy cultivated societies.' To them, it's just a story." Joe finally turned to me. "I don't even think Cammie knows about what she supposedly knows. And, in my career, that is probably the dumbest thing I've ever said."

I chuckled. Not everyone got to see the humorous side of him. "She's something, isn't she?" Damn it! Did I say that out loud?

Joe raised his eyebrow. "Feelings for her? As best friend of the father, I have legal obligations to threaten any guys who are interested. Break her heart, I break your neck. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." By now, we were both staring at her back. Bex's eyes flicked up, and then back to Cammie. She mumbled something.

Liz turned around. Bex must've said something along the lines of 'he's staring.' And of course, Liz turned to stare and Cammie looked into the reflective pitcher on the table. The two extremes of spying, ladies and gentlemen.

By now, it was six thirty. I wanted to get in some extra practice for P&E. So I dropped off my plate and headed to my room.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

Thud, thud, slam! I pounded my fists against the punching bag, but then threw in a kick. I liked the P&E barn. Open spaces, room to let go of energy, and privacy. I had just worked up a sweat when the bag swung my way. Hard.

"Hey there. So I see you're getting in a workout." I detected a British accent. So much for privacy.

"Bex? What's up? I came here to be alone, but I guess I can spare a minute." I wiped my forehead on my shirt sleeve. I was already really gross.

"You see here, Cammie likes you. But she doesn't know that. She happens to think that you're an arrogant, self-consumed ass. But under that, she's very attracted. There's fair warning." With that, Bex walked away, not giving me a chance to respond. What was that? Bex thinks that Cammie likes me? Cammie thinks I'm an ass? Which is it? Why are girls so confusing? Slam, thud, thud.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

"What do you think she meant by that?" I changed out of my sweaty shirt and shorts, and into relatively clean pajamas pants. I was asking Grant's advice on Bex's cryptic talk with me. Grant had much more experience in the female department. Three sisters and a hundred girlfriends get you some knowledge.

"And that's what she said? Exactly?" Then again, girls were bizarre. Maybe he was as clueless as I was.

"Verbatim."

"I dunno. Ask me again in Japanese. Maybe then we'll have some luck."

"I don't think that will help. Jonas?" That move was flat out desperate. I regretted it the instant I asked.

Jonas turned from his laptop. "Well, if I was there, I could've monitored her heart rate to ensure she was telling the truth, and observe the different tell-tale signs of lying, just to make sure. But I assume you did that. Not monitor her heart, but check for the giveaways." Grant groaned. "What you're asking is what was implied, or merely stated. What you could've done is watch her pupils dilate, and her behaviors to determine the intention of the conversation, therefore discovering-"

"Ok. I lost interest." Grant, nor I, wanted to continue this conversation. Jonas had to keep his true intelligence partially hidden from the girls, so we got the explosion of full on nerd. The longer it's bottled up, the greater the impact. He had kept it bottled all day. Jonas scowled, and he clearly wanted to walk us through his whole theory, process of solving, and possible problems with his system. Geez, why did he have to be such a geek?

"Well, I'm checking out. G'night." Grant stuffed his head under the pillow, and within minutes, was snoring.

"Me, too." Jonas yawned, and turned off the lamp.

Alone, I lay awake, surrounded by the rest of my sleeping brothers. What to do to pass the time? I wasn't tired. At all. Too much on my mind. Cammie, mostly.

I pushed off the covers, and slipped on a shirt and some socks. Time to explore, I guess.

I walked out of the East Wing, and for once I was totally clueless on where to go. I wanted to find a passageway. Blackthorne had some, and surely an old mansion like this would have some, too. All old buildings do.

Down the hallway, and to the right is the Grand Hall. The Grand Staircase was looming over the foyer, and the chandelier had an odd glow to it. The mansion seemed so still. It looked kind of eerie in the dark. Nothing to illuminate it but the windows, it looked like the beginning to one of those horror films that aren't really that scary. Just corny. So where were the ghosts?

"A little late, now is it, Mr. Goode?" I nearly jumped out of my skin. How unprofessional of me. I was pissed at myself for not being aware. Wasn't I just thinking that something would pop out and get me? Yet I jumped when a teacher came up behind me.

"Mr. Smith? Why are you up?" He was wearing a god damn nightgown. I didn't dare question it though, I was certain he could still kick my ass, dress or not.

"Checking the perimeter. And why would you be awake at this hour?" Why the hell was he wearing the nightgown? I kept looking down at his dress. I couldn't help it. Imagine this: a grown man, in a cotton nightgown that went almost down to his feet, so the only thing you could see was a pair of fuzzy slippers and knobby ankles. Not a pretty sight.

"Bored. Not tired." My eyes flicked down. "Curious."

"Mr. Goode, your reputation does not include getting caught. I would recommend catching some shut eye. It might help." Once again, I glanced at his apparel. I was being horribly out of character. I just _could not_ focus on his words. "And if you are so curious, just ask."

"What's with the dress?" I blurted. Maybe I _could _use some sleep.

He raised an eyebrow. "I meant about the school, but if you insist on that question. I prefer to catch people off guard. The nightgown is one way. Surprising them is another. Do you think it worked?" He chuckled, clearly amused at my behavior.

"Definitely. Well, good night Mr. Smith." I backed up, slowly exiting the Grand Hall. Glad to get out of that situation, I decided that I really did need to sleep. I better not dream of ghosts and cross-dressing teachers. I shuddered.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

I woke up to Grant slamming a pillow on my head. "Wake up. Wake up."

I grabbed the edge of my pillow, and swung. Grant dodged the projectile and it sailed across our room and hit Jonas's head.

Oops. Jonas turned and glared at me. One thing you should know about him is that he is _not_ a morning person. Jonas stood up, and grabbed the pillow. Grant walked out, leaving me to deal with angry Jonas. "Hey, let's not be rash. At least I didn't hit the computer." I laughed nervously. Jonas could be tough when he wanted to be.

"You're gonna get it now!" He drew his arm back, ready to launch the pillow, but not before I sprinted out of the room. The last thing I heard was him laughing, soon joined by Grant. Damn it. Idiots.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

After some amazing waffles for breakfast, it was time to go back to Countries of the World. Time to see Cammie. Did she really like me? Or was Bex just kidding?

I really needed to stop over-thinking this. By the time I was done fretting about Cammie's possible crush on me and my for-sure crush on her, I had reached the COW classroom.

I walked in and looked toward the table where Cammie was sitting, talking to Bex.

"Hey, Gallagher Girl? Aren't you supposed to be my tour guide? I almost got lost!" I teased, and sat down next to her.

"And yet, here you are." Bex raised an eyebrow at her best friend. "And I thought you wouldn't be able to find your way and I wouldn't have to deal with you." Bex chuckled and turned to face the front of the room.

"Ow, Gallagher Girl. I'm hurt. Who knew you could be so mean?" I held my hand to my chest, faking indignation.

Mr. Smith walked in and the first thing that came to my mind was him in his nightgown. _Oh, memories please go away!_

After another hour of learning about various countries, half of which I've been to, it was time, once again, for _Culture_. It was basically folding napkins and learning the history of tablecloths. It wasn't, and never will be, part of the Blackthorne curriculum.

The class was dismissed, and Cammie and I stood to leave. "I don't really know much about the famous Cameron Morgan, now do I?" Solomon was really pushing me for this information. _Please, Gallagher Girl, give me _something!_ Anything_.

She raised her eyebrow. "We have to go to the fourth floor. Culture and Assimilation." We had left the room and were walking toward the stairs. So much for information.

"Why Culture class? It seems like a waste of time." Climbing the stairs, I continued our conversation.

"We can blend into any culture, any environment. And Assimilation. It's not just social graces; it's a matter of life or death." We were finished climbing the stairs and she pushed open the door.

"Mm-hm. Life and death."

The tables were cleared, and pushed to the sides of the room. There was a large space in the middle.

_Damn it. No dancing. No dancing. Please no dancing_. I hate dancing. I hoped it was karate using china as weapons. _Anything but dancing_.

"I have saved this class for our special guests," the teacher started. "The art of dance!"

Damn. We're dancing. "You hear that? I'm special." At least I would get to dance with Cammie.

"That's a matter of-"

"Cameron, dear. Would you like to demonstrate for us?" Madame Dabney had caught us whispering.

"You, too Zachary. Welcome to Gallagher Academy. Now, place your hand here, on the small of her back. And hold her other hand gently. Ladies and gentlemen, grab a partner."

Grant grabbed Bex's hand and pulled her close, and, man, is he a player. A player with an obvious crush.

So there I stood, in the middle of the room, my arm around Cammie's waist, and our hands locked. I hoped she couldn't feel me shaking. The last time I had to dance, it was because my mom needed a cover while her snipers took out a rich guy in Moscow. He fell dead within ten feet of me and my dance partner. That's not the part that bothered me. Just the swaying and moving to music. Not my style.

At least I wasn't sweating. I bet Jonas was getting all clammy, holding Liz's hand. I wished I could just watch them dance, it'd be prime entertainment. Jonas was a klutz as it is, but add rhythm and other people, and it was just a disaster waiting to happen.

"Closer, she's not going to bite." Madame Dabney pushed my back so I was standing about three inches from Cammie. I willed my heart not to go into overdrive, or my feet to stumble, or my hands from sweating. She had really soft hands. And really pretty hair. And gorgeous eyes, I could stare at them all day. I really need to keep my feelings in check. I've been trained to hide them away, but one girl's bringing them out? How is that fair?

I was shocked out of my inner tirade by the music starting. Madame Dabney showed us each step, and Cammie was really good at it. As the class learned the steps, Jonas and Liz were being klutzes together. Stepping on feet, tripping each other, and bonking heads when they tried to _look_ at their feet. Such grace. Please note the sarcasm.

After an hour of holding her, I had to let go. I was relieved, yet upset. Relieved, because I could breathe without worrying if my breath still smelled like bacon. Upset, because, well. You know, Cammie.

Ugh. Stupid feelings.

"Time for CoveOps. Best class of the day." Cammie said. No wonder she liked it, every one called her Chameleon, and a 'legacy'. I would kill for her legacy. My legacy happens to be a terrorist organization set on destroying the world. Her legacy is pure skill.

"No arguments there."

"I'm sorry, did I hear you? You're not going to argue with me?" She smirked.

"Nope, do you want one, because I happen to think that Culture and Assimilation is getting pretty fun." I returned the smirk. She shook her head, and turned to head down the stairs.

"You never did answer my question from earlier. So, what's your story?"

"Technically, the question you asked earlier was 'I don't know much about you, do I?' Which the answer would be no."

"And, my new question?"

"What about it?" Damn, I guess I had that one coming.

"Never mind. You're hopeless." So much for figuring anything out. I was determined to piece her together, no matter how long it took.

At the bottom of the stairs, we walked to a different hallway, and looked into a painting. It administered a retinal scan, and then opened into an elevator. This was the kind of technology we were missing at Blackthorne.

As soon as we were in the elevator, the body scan flashed and we started to descend.

But as soon as he doors opened, Joe put on his leather jacket and said, "Don't bother. Going up. Time for a trip to town."

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

**Cheese Louise, my longest chapter yet. I know that, logically, the dance class should've been in the last chapter, but whatever. I said plot lines weren't my thing ;) if anybody has any ideas for improving this, please tell me. Also, does anybody want to beta, or know a beta? I'm good with grammar and spelling, but I want someone to tell me if I missed something, or if it's confusing. Or stupid. If so, PM me with beta-ing info… Yeah. Thanks.**

I think I'm gonna tell a story from my life at the end of each chapter. Just to vent all my feelings in the Internet. If they start to get annoying, go ahead and tell me.

-So, I was at school, staring at a poster, waiting for my friend to show up. My math teacher comes out of nowhere, hands me one of these cards (you get them for being 'responsible', 'respectful', or 'safe') and the conversation goes down like this:

Teacher: I meant to give you one of these.  
Me: why?  
Teacher: you're one of my better students.  
Me: *laughs* really? I don't get that a lot.  
Teacher: *chuckles* well, not to belittle you, but in your class, you don't have much competition. -

Let's just say I'm either a teacher's favorite or the kid they would like to drop-kick off a cliff. But my math class is awful. And my science teacher that I absolutely despise: I think I'm his favorite. Grrrr. Anyone else need to vent teacher problems?


	4. Chapter 4

**Yep. Bruisedtulips gets this one. I went full nutso on her. Haha, that's what I get for eating candy before I go to sleep... Also, WISEGIRLluvesSEAWEEDBRAIN because we were on at the same time and we had a really long conversation where I also went kinda nutso. Not as much as before, but we cracked out some foreign languages. Well. Two. And I decided that I will do Tuesday or Wednesday updates, probably really late, because I'm a night owl….**

_**Obviously**_** I don't own Gallagher Girls.**

****•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

****We walked out of the school, and boarded a bright red van with the Gallagher crest on the side. For a school for spies, their color choice was rather inappropriate. Either that or very smart. What better way to blend in than to stand out?

As we all loaded up into the van, Dr. Steve got into the driver's seat. And, thankfully, I didn't have to sit next to Grant. Because, frankly, I had ridden in far too many vehicles with him for my preference. I sat next to Solomon, with Grant on his other side.

"Mr. Solomon, you have done a great job with these young ladies. Just excellent." Dr. Steve rambled on. I wasn't completely sure if he was watching the road. "You ladies need to pay attention to this man. He's a living legend." He pulled onto the street.

"Emphasis on _living."_ Joe interjected. "And today, ladies and gentlemen, we're working with the basics. I want to watch you work together. Pay attention to your surroundings, and remember your covers. This business means looking like you belong, and you need to look like you're all private school students enjoying a day out on the town."

I stayed silent, waiting for the girls to catch up. Bex caught the hint first. "What are we really?"

"Spies playing tag." Joe pulled out a quarter and tossed it to her. "Brush pass, define it, Ms. Baxter."

Immediately, she replied, "The act of covertly passing an object between two agents." Brush passes were extremely simple. They were a necessity. The basics.

Cammie was watching the scenery pass by. She glanced at me, then back out the window.

Joe continued, "The little things are everything."

"As I was telling Headmistress Morgan," Dr. Steve tried to enter our conversation, but was ignored. This wasn't his field. Traumatizing teenagers with endless lectures was.

"This may be low tech, but if you can't do this, might as well go sit at a desk." He pulled out a box from under the seat, and started passing out comms and cameras. "I'll be watching. Pay attention to your comms. I'll be asking questions and giving instructions." The van stopped. Roseville was really close to Gallagher, unlike Belmont to Blackthorne. That trip was a good hour and a half.

One of the girls, Kim, I think, was struggling with an American flag pin. Where there's a damsel in distress, there's Grant. He helped her, but ignored her batting eyelashes. Solomon pushed open the doors, and sunlight flooded in.

"Pair off." I saw Cammie reach for Bex, but Solomon stopped her. I got out of the van, and moved off the edge of the sidewalk.

"I believe you already have a partner, Ms. Morgan." She looked my way, and I couldn't read her expression. With girls, ignorance can be dangerous. But I had a pretty good feeling that she'd rather be with her best friend.

She took a silver cross from Solomon, and stepped out of the van, joining me on the grass.

"Come on, Gallagher Girl. This'll be fun." I started to walk to the center of town. There was absolutely no one. And we had to pass around quarters? No one to see us means no way to fail. What was the point of this exercise?

I kept walking until I saw a gazebo. I sat on the steps and stretched. Might as well relax. Cammie avoided my look and her eyes went blank.

"Come here often?" What's her problem? It's like she's in outer space.

She looked up, and finally registered my words. "I used to, but the CIA deputy director made me promise to stop." She added a smirk, just for emphasis. I laughed. She is rather funny when she tries.

"Ms. Walters, you're it." Tina walked on the other side of the square, and passed the coin to Eva.

"So where does the Blackthorne Institution call home"? Cammie joined me on the steps.

"Sorry. That's classified." But I was glad that she's curious about me. Unfortunately, I didn't even stop to think how she'd react to my brush-off of her question.

Cammie snapped. "So you're sleeping in _my_ school and I can't even know where yours _is_?" Her attitude took a one-eighty. Laughing and joking to giving me a death glare.

"Trust me; you wouldn't want to sleep in my school."_ You'd have nightmares for months. _I laughed again, hoping she wouldn't push it farther.

"Two men are playing chess in the southwest corner of the square. Ms. Baxter, how far is the man in the green cap from checkmate?" Solomon asked through the comms.

Her British accent replied, "Six."

"Why can't you tell me?" Damn, Cammie. Let it go.

"Trust me, Gallagher Girl. Can you trust me?" _Please say yes_. She glanced at the pharmacy. Cammie ignored my question. I could clearly see one girl drop the quarter in a bag. She was sloppy.

"ATMs equal cameras. Tighten it up, ladies." Solomon agreed with me.

"Solomon's good."

"Yeah. He is." She returned to wearing her blank look. It was better than her glaring at me.

"They say you're good too." She really is, better than the rest of the girls. My time within Gallagher has given me so much more insight. That, and Joe thinks she's got real potential. That's a legitimate compliment from an impartial man.

She froze. I had delivered her a major compliment, whether she understood the double meaning or just shrugged it off as me being creepy.

"Zach, without looking, how many windows overlook the west side of the square?" Joe asked, as if I _wouldn't_ know that.

"Fourteen." Back to our conversation. They say you're a real pavement artist." Watching her walk the streets in DC, I could say that with real conviction. I leaned back on the steps, and kept talking. Cammie wouldn't hold up her end of the conversation. "It probably a good thing we tailed you in DC, because if you followed us, I wouldn't have seen you." Another compliment. She's lucky. Compliments from me are hard to come by.

But, did she say thank you? Did she reply? No. She walked off, down a side street, totally blowing me off. What the hell? I was being _nice_. Bex said that Cammie thought I was an ass, but when I say something polite, she leaves me. Girls. Seriously?

I groaned, and laid back on the floor of the gazebo. I sat up, ready to follow her around the corner. But a flash of red hair caught my eye. I decided to chase after the woman I needed to see, Cammie could wait. _It's not like she'd get into any trouble_. I needed help on my mission. The woman turned down a block, so I dashed in her direction.

She turned another corner, and then disappeared. I looked down the street. No sign of her. Only a note was left on the sidewalk.

_Midnight._

__My mother. Did Joe notice her? He should've. I'd tell him later, after the midnight rendezvous with my mother. The minute and a half I spent chasing her, I was supposed to be with Cammie. I hadn't been listening to the comms, either. _Damn, distracted for a second_. I realized that Cammie and I would have our turns soon. "Nice pass, Ms. Baxter." Yep, she had it. Time to meet up with her.

I sprinted around the corner, and down a couple blocks. Turning another corner then I spotted her.

She was in the middle of a sidewalk, talking to a blonde girl and a boy. She seemed flustered. "Ms. Morgan, time to see you hand off." I had to make an appearance.

I strolled over, eyeing the boy who was looking at his feet. This must be the ex-boyfriend. _Idiot, letting her go. _But, he did try to save her with a forklift_._ If he really knew her, he'd know that she didn't need a forklift for a rescue.

"Cammie, there you are." The guy finally looked up. "I was wondering where you went. I'm Zach," I said, turning to the blonde boy. I put out my hand, looking into his eyes, and smirked. _You lost her, buddy_._ My turn. _The unspoken message. He shook my hand, and then shoved his back in his pocket. His gaze returned to his feet.

"Zach," Cammie spoke up, at last. "This is DeeDee, and Josh." She added, like an afterthought. This was most definitely the ex.

"We're Cammie's friends." DeeDee said, smiling like the perfect girl-next-door.

"Zach and I…" Cammie tried to label our relationship. I couldn't even do that. A sideways glance at me, and I knew she was trying to come up with something convincing. I should try to save her from embarrassing herself.

"I go to school with Cammie." The look of confusion on the townies' faces was priceless.

"But I thought it was a girls' school?" The blonde couldn't piece together the fact that, _yes_, I am a boy. And yes, I am at Gallagher_. Did I stutter, DeeDee?_ "My school's meshing with Gallagher for a semester." I put my hand in Cammie's, grabbing the quarter and feeling her skin instantly warm up. _Aw, she's blushing._ And, of course, the little blonde smiles like she's crazy. I really liked holding Cammie's hand, even though I just needed the quarter. Cammie was really nervous, seeing Jimmy and all. I gave her hand a squeeze. "Van's leaving in ten. Nice meeting you." I let go of her, and walked toward Joe's van. I was the last one with the coin.

Over the comms, I heard, "Bring Zach, too!" Wait- what? I wasn't listening to the rest of the conversation on my headset. DeeDee invited me somewhere. What? _Cammie: decline, decline, decline!_ "It'd be at the barn down Jefferson Boulevard, like last year." _Say no!_

"Sounds like fun!" Damn, Gallagher Girl. What part of _no_ is so confusing?

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

I found her in a back hallway. I was wandering around, and so was she. She reached for the wall, hand extended. A new passageway? I didn't want her to disappear into the depths of the school, so I called out to her.

"So, what about it? Is it time I get the Cammie Morgan: no wall to high, no passageway too secret grand tour?" My most recent research also indicated that she is an avid explorer of the school.

Cammie swiveled around, her eyes wide. She must've been shocked, first that I was there, then that I knew of her little hobby. "How do you know about-"

"Spy." My only statement. Actually, Tina Walters told me.

I walked closer, not letting her vanish into the wall. I leaned against the cold stone, watching her try to decide if I was worth talking to. She looked around, realizing none of her sisters were with her, that she was alone. With me. "So that was Jimmy? He seems like a cutie." Deny it, say you're over him, something! Reassure me that I have a chance with you. Please!

"His name is Josh. And did you come here to make fun? Well, go ahead, mock away." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. She didn't mention her relationship, but I know there was something between them at one point. Damn, no news is usually good news, unless a female is involved. Then no news means that the girl still has feelings for her ex-boyfriend. My theory.

"But you took all the fun out of it." I stepped closer, breathing in her flowery scent. She even made soap smell great. "Why'd you freeze out there?" I softly murmured, not appreciating my mushy-gushy-girly side making reappearance.

"I'm fine." Her sapphire eyes locked on mine, wordlessly telling me to back off. I wouldn't. I wanted to get past that 'annoying-boy-she's-forced-to-show-around' phase.

"No, you're not. But you will be." _I promise, Gallagher Girl, I promise._

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep that night. I laid on my bed, just waiting for Grant and Jonas's snores to fill the room. After a few minutes, they were out.

I got up, and slipped on a shirt and shoes. I had to be fast this time, to avoid another encounter with Mr. Smith in a nightgown. I'd rather not repeat that. Those are memories I will never get to abolish.

I quietly stepped through the foyer, and around to the back of the stairs. There was a tapestry, and in my training: tapestry equals secret passageway. I pushed it aside, and I turned a stone that jutted out from a wall. It opened smoothly.

There wasn't much dust, and it looked like it was used recently. _Cammie's passageway, probably. _It was rather clean. I bet it was a favorite route of hers.

I kept walking, and only noticed a few hallways branching off. It was a central passageway, most likely leading to all sorts of places within Gallagher. _I could use this way again._

Eventually, I came to the end, and it led right out of the school. Wow. And there was no security to be seen. Seriously? 'Top notch security?' Nope. Not even close. I scaled the wall, being careful so my sneakers wouldn't leave skid marks. I had been foolish enough in the two days I've been here, I didn't want to screw it up even more.

Then it was time to start the two mile jog. It wouldn't be a problem. I had been living at a detention facility the last few years, so that was nothing. Half of the trip was going through the forest surrounding the school, and the rest was following Highway 10 to the little town of Roseville.

And by little, I mean little. Not as small as Belmont, but it was minuscule. Walking along the cracked sidewalk, I came to the corner of 4th and Main Street. That was where I saw my mother earlier.

No sign of her. I almost kept walking, but I saw a piece of Evapopaper stuck to the window. W_ell, Mother, how inconspicuous_. I ripped it off.

_The barn._

__That all it said. The barn? Wait! The blonde town girl said something about a barn. Where'd she say it was?

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

After running along a bumpy, dusty, rural road, I saw a field. Part of the grass was flattened, some was mowed. There was a wide path that led to the small barn in the distance. Walking through the itchy grass, I hoped I wasn't late. My mother wouldn't wait forever. I had already wasted about twenty minutes, running around, trying to get there.

The moon lit the small building as I pushed open the large doors. It was so dark; I could barely see three feet in front of me. I walked to the middle of a barn until a flashlight shone directly in my eyes.

"Took you long enough."

"Damn, put that thing down!" I shielded my eyes.

"I did not raise my son to have a filthy mouth." My mother lowered the light. "Here, take this. Follow me." She handed me a light of my own.

I grabbed the light, and cautiously followed her up a ladder and into a loft. She was looking around for something. "Where's the lantern?" I instantly got worried. My mother has always been a firebug.

"Don't worry. It's electric. And why are you being so quiet?" _Because I'm currently with a woman who's mentally unstable and trained to kill._

"Long jog." She flicked a switch on the portable light and we could see more than just a beam of light cutting through the black. The yellow glow allowed us to see the stacks of hay that surrounded us.

"Could've hopped a ride." Yeah, at midnight, in the little town of Roseville, someone would give a teenage boy a ride to the middle of nowhere. I would've liked to see how that turned out. "Don't they have cars at Gallagher? They did when I was a girl." Oh. She wanted me to steal one.

"What brings you to the quaint town of Roseville? Surely not just to visit your _favorite_ son?" I sat on a bale of hay, glad to rest. Spy or not, I liked to sit.

"I'm sorry, but no. It's just on my way to Miami. Someone there talked. I wanted to see if you got anything new. What has Cameron told you?" So, she was on her way to get rid of someone who didn't have the sense to keep their mouth shut.

"Absolutely nothing. She doesn't trust me."

"So? Make her trust you. Easy as that." I looked in her eyes. What was she planning?

"How would I do that?" Whatever she told me, I knew it would be something that would end badly.

"Romance. Girls always fall for that stuff. Make her fall in love. Capture her heart, learn her secrets, and when you do, you can get rid of her. Then you can break her heart."

Well, I was already working on the first part. But breaking her heart wasn't on my agenda.

"Will do." I stood up, ready to leave. I hadn't slept well since Blackthorne. I really should _try_ to, and sitting in a barn at one in the morning was not going to help that.

"Oh," she started. I turned to face her. What else could she say to me? "Need a hint? Ask about her dad. That's our most recent lead. Apparently, that's why I had to _dispose_ of Matthew Morgan all those years ago. But, sadly, she learned the names before he _disappeared_. I just hope we won't need to kill her, too." I continued down the ladder. Hopefully, I wouldn't see her for a while. It'd make my life a whole lot easier.

On my way back to the school, I thought about what she said. Break her heart. Her dad. The names? What names? Damn, Solomon's definitely going to hear from me. And '_kill her'_ rang through my thoughts. Cammie wanted nothing to do with me, but, as sure as hell, my mother wouldn't touch her. I'd make sure of it.

I remembered something: earlier today, Solomon mentioned Cammie's dad. He was Matthew's best friend. Maybe he knew about 'the names'. Because I had no clue.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

**One note before my story: Is anyone else EXTREMELY angry that 'Mick' is 'Mack' in book 4?! This has been driving me crazy. I hate it. Blah. Story time! (Well I guess you've been reading a story the entire time, but…..)**

**Ok, so my brother was getting a pop, so I told him to grab me a . He did, but he dropped it on the ground and dented it. Thinking it would fizz everywhere on me when I opened it, I faked being unable to, and he came to help me. And he said, "Oh, it's because you're not a lefty!" Like- what? How does that relate? I just wanted it to fizz on him! But it didn't. Oh well. Sibling stories to share? Or only-child stories? My friend talks to her cat when she's bored. When I'm bored, I talk to the Internet. (Cue FF readers)**

And apparently, I give out a lot of sneak peeks. So REVEIW and you'll get a bit from next chapter. (When I actually start it...) I think I'm omproving as this story goes on, but I really want some feedback. What do I need to improve? Even if you don't like the story, _**especially**_** if you don't like it, tell me something I need to improve. I'm working on descriptive-ness and not turning everything into a joke currently (LOL could you tell? No…) Sooooooo, Bye!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi! Chapter 5… Here it is, early, because I was done with it. Done. Phew! Next chapter will be (next) Tuesday at the latest. Shout out to PotatoesAndDragons, because she (once again, girly fandom = girls reading, assuming) was the first one to help out, even though she didn't know she helped. LOL, thanks anyway. **

**(Insert witty disclaimer here)**

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Even though I didn't get to bed until well after one, I still needed to beat the sun. So, before dawn, I silently changed into my uniform, not bothering to knot my tie. That could wait. Solomon couldn't.

Creeping through the school, I wondered not how much _Cammie_ knew, but how much _Solomon_ knew. He was always on top of things, and he seemed to be connected to the Morgan family, in more than one way. I was heading outside, looking for him. And, one thing I've learned from being with him on different training ops is that he likes the morning. And what does he do in the morning? He trains. And trains. All the time.

It's what he does. It's what we do. In our business, being prepared is key. If you turn around, and someone has a gun to your head, what would you do? Scream? Freeze? No, we learned to punch their gut, kick them to the ground, take their gun, and shoot them in the head before they can call for help. It sounds brutal, but that's my school experience in a nutshell. It's how Blackthorne operates.

So, where would Joe be training at five thirty in the morning? The P&E barn. Walking across the dewy grass, I thought about what my mother said_: "Romance. Girls always fall for that stuff. Make her fall in love. Capture her heart, learn her secrets, and when you do, you can get rid of her. Then you can break her heart" _and then: _"I just hope we won't need to kill her, too."_

My mother was serious about the Cammie-thing then. Whatever she knew, 'the names', or whatever else, was important. Important enough for a death threat. Not good.

I shoved open the doors to the large barn, flooding it with the early morning sunlight. Solomon sat on the floor, doing crunches.

"Solomon, guess what's new." I called across the barn. He stopped doing his workout, and stood to approach me.

"You're sleep deprived from wandering around past curfew. Catherine was in town, and you left the mansion to see you mother around midnight last night. Did I miss anything?" _Um, no?_ He laughed. Like I've said, he knows everything.

"Cammie knows some names, and my mom wants them."

"Well, she didn't tell me that part." Or almost everything_. Wait, when did they get together?_

"You saw my mom? What did she tell you? Because she was very evasive with every question I asked."

"Not much, but she might try to make a surprise visit on Friday. And if she wants to get to Cammie, you'll have to distract her. Cammie, that is. So keep your eyes on her." He rubbed his neck. He was being evasive, too. Not a single adult would answer any of my questions. "The names. I bet the names are part of the Circle. Matthew was trying to break down the organization, before…"

"My mother found him."

"Exactly."

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

After clarifying things with Solomon, I met up with Cammie in the hallway, but she was rigid, stiff. Not queen-of-these-halls as she usually was. Something was up with her.

"What's the matter, Gallagher Girl? You seem jumpy." I asked her, heading toward the god-awful _Culture _class. Once again, she ignored my question. As we opened the doors to class, Madame Dabney stood in the middle of the room.

We all sat in the chairs, watching the teacher float around the room and greet the girls. When everyone had gotten their 'hellos' and 'how-are-yous', she stood on the dance floor. "Ooh, ladies. And gentlemen. The all school exam: in all my years of teaching, I have never gotten the chance to organize such an exciting educational experience." Every last one of us stared at her, waiting for the details. Frankly, I wasn't worried. An exam, here, would be a piece of cake. "This Friday night, we will be having a formal examination. Ladies and gentlemen, we will have a ball!" Shit. Now I'm worried.

Damn, Friday? I have to keep an eye on Cammie, while at a _ball_? Ugh, dancing, dressing up, and making sure my mom doesn't come to kidnap Cammie.

"Tomorrow, at this time, you will all be fitted for gowns. And tuxedos. Friday evening, you will be asked to participate in a cumulative assessment, encompassing the entire curriculum. You will also be expected to dance." Well, so much for 'taking it easy.'

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

I lounged on my bed. I was wearing my tuxedo, but my bow-tie and my jacket were on the back of a chair. Jonas squirmed and Grant tugged at his tie. "I'd rather go back to the jumpsuits at this point." Grant's voice registered in my head, but I was focused on my plan. Dance with everybody, but watch Cammie at all times. It wasn't just for my satisfaction, but I was afraid my mother would become impatient and take matters into her own hands. My plan sounded creepy and stalkerish, but my mother had her ways.

"Eh, it's not too bad. At least we don't need to wear those wigs and the fat suits like we did in Brunei." Jonas chuckled, even though that school field trip didn't end too well for him. Ah, I love angry elephants.

Dr. Steve knocked on our door, "Gentlemen, time to make our way to the Grand Hall. You all look excellent!" He said as all fifteen boys slowly emerged from their rooms, dressed for something they weren't trained to do. Dance.

Grant tossed my jacket to me, and said "At least the girls will be looking good, too," with a wink. Cammie would be wearing a dress. I would get to see her in something other than the plaid skirt and blouse. She looked good in the uniform, but all dressed up; I bet she'd look hot.

We walked through the East Wing, and I knotted my bow-tie and slung my jacket over my shoulders. When we all walked out of the doors, the boys split. The eighth graders headed for Macey, who was standing with the rest of her roommates, at the top of the stairs. They were smiling, posing for Madame Dabney's out-of-date camera brooch. I glanced at the group of girls, and at the end, there stood Cammie. She was dressed in a red, gauzy dress, flaunting every curve and showing of her bare shoulders. Her hair was up, in loose curls. It was a pleasant change from her usual ponytail and uniform. And, regardless of what I thought earlier. She was _not_ hot.

She was gorgeous. Stunning. Beautiful. No exaggeration, none at all. Her eyes lit up when she smiled, and her face glowed. There's nothing I could compare her to. Slowly, I went up behind her, and contemplated telling her how spectacular she looked, my reputation be damned.

_Don't you look fabulous?_ That sounds sarcastic. _Well, I must say that dress looks a lot better than your uniform._ No, then she'll think I don't like the way she looks in the uniform. _Man, it's not like when I'm with the guys and can say "hey hideous!" And they take no offense_. My nerves were building up, and I'd been standing behind her too long. They'd only get worse from there. I might as well give it a shot.

"Well, you don't look hideous." Damn it! What? No! I hated being nervous. My idiotic conscience mashed all my lame pick-up lines into the worst one of all.

She turned around, gave me a once over, and raised an eyebrow. She replied, "Ditto." Holy. Shit. Did that work? I couldn't help it; I broke out a grin, one of my special smiles saved for the rare occasion. I laughed. I pulled it off. She didn't think I was being a jerk. Cammie hesitantly joined my laughter, and started to head down the stairs. But, while she turned, she tripped over her dress. Instinctively, I grabbed her arm.

She had soft skin. Really soft. But she yanked her arm out of my, surprisingly, gentle hold. "I am perfectly capable of waking down the stairs." _And throwing you down_, her eyes seemed to say. Where'd the laughing, smiling, joking girl go?

"A lady always gracefully accepts a gentleman's arm when offered, Cammie dear." The old woman floated by, unknowingly giving me another chance to hold on to her arm. I put my elbow out, and watched her hold lightly on to it. She didn't want to, that much was obvious. We started to descend the stairs.

"Stop it." What was I doing? Because I had no clue.

"What?" I stopped smirking. Oh, I was smirking.

"You're enjoying this way too much. You're smirking." Well, yeah. I was enjoying it. And, duh. I was smirking because she wasn't enjoying it. It was pretty funny.

We reached the end of the stairs, and I said "I got news for you, Gallagher Girl, if you're not enjoying this; you're in the wrong business." I don't know. I needed to say something other than "you're really pretty and I can't think straight with your perfume", because I don't think that'd go over well. I looked away from her and noticed how the Grand Hall was totally transformed. There were tapestries all around the room, totally shattering my theory of tapestries and passageways. Flowers on every table and starched tablecloths. Not to mention all the fancy clothes. I felt like a trespasser. My life was for dusty safe houses and dirty tunnels. Not tuxes and Beethoven.

Of course, I was relieved when Joe came up to the growing crowd of teenagers, with a stack of manila folders. "Hello, ladies and gentlemen. You all look very nice, but I'm afraid that you're not done getting ready." All the girls immediately looked down at their dresses, and I suppressed a laugh. "We failed to mention that tonight is a _masquerade_ ball."

One girl asked about masks, but I ignored her. "These are your masks." Solomon handed out the folders, and all mine said was: _Keep her in your sights. _I looked up, but Solomon didn't meet my gaze. Well, sure. Why not? I looked at Grant, but he was reading his cover. I guess Solomon thought that I'd have enough trouble watching Cammie and keeping her out of trouble.

So after everyone had read their covers, the music resumed, and I grabbed the nearest girl, who happened to be an eighth grader. _Yay_. She babbled the entire time about absolutely nothing. I wasn't listening. Every song I'd switch girls, but eventually I found myself with Bex. Waltzing. Her arm was around my waist, and I was afraid she'd try to slap me. I don't know why, but I thought that we were similar, and I'd slap me if I were her. Just in general, I'd acted very slap-able. Too many girls surrounded me, and my brain was getting scrambled. Ugh, girls and their girly-ness. I looked over her shoulder at Cammie, then back to Bex. She stood on her toes as we continued to dance.

Her warm breath was on my ear, "Zach, please don't hurt her. Whether you know it or not, she's fragile. Her last relationship didn't end too well. So quit the games, and tell her how you feel." I pulled back, stunned. Bex was Team Zach? Not Team Jimmy? Yes! I had a chance. But she didn't need to know how excited I was, so I smirked.

"And why would I do that? I think she could kick my ass." Bex shook her head just as the song ended.

"Damn right she could. _Please_ don't screw with her feelings. I don't want to deal with the aftermath. Not again." Again, she left. She always had the last word. No questions I could ask, no snarky comments. She just ends it and walks away.

A fox trot started, and Liz somehow ended up with me. All she did was recite her legend, and if I know her correctly, verbatim. Just rambling, and rambling, and rambling. Cammie was cornered by Mr. Mosckowitz, and I believe he was doing the same thing that Liz was. Rambling. Oh, did I already say that? I excused myself politely _(Hah, I did listen to Culture Class.)_. I grabbed two drinks from a table, and made my way over to Cammie.

"So tell me, Tiffany." _Tiffany_. "How are you enjoying the party?" Mosckowitz asked.

"Tiffany is the life of the party. Mr. Secretary, I believe this is your drink." I handed the old man a glass, and he had the most confused look on his face, and then asked Cammie if it was his drink. He was so clueless; I wondered how he qualified to teach here.

"Thank you, my good man! Good show!" Oh, geez. He was so utterly unfit for the field, it was actually rather humorous. "Is that right Tiffany?" Cammie's reaction was delayed, and she looked back at the teacher. I glanced behind Mosckowitz, where Cammie was previously looking. Solomon and the headmistress were talking, concerned. It was probably about my mom.

"I wonder, Mr. Secretary, could I borrow Tiffany for a moment?"

"Not at all." Panic flashed through her eyes. _Why didn't she want to dance with me?_ I grabbed her hand, and dragged her onto the dance floor. I wrapped my arm around her waist, and ever so discreetly smelled her hair. Flowers. This would be the only context _ever_ where I liked the smell of flowers.

"So tell me, Tiffany St. James," _What kind of shampoo do you use? _"What does a girl like you do for fun?" She became confused.

"How do you know my name?" What? Seriously? Your teacher said your name not twelve seconds ago! _I know you're more professional than this._

"I always make it a point to know beautiful women." I dipped her, and winked. But, as I looked up, Bex was glaring at me over Grant's shoulder. He spun her, and Grant had the dorkiest grin he could muster. He was happy to be dancing with his _British Bombshell_. "Come on, Gallagher Girl, relax a little." As I said that, her face tensed. "Hey, are you okay?" _What's the matter with her?_

"I gotta go." She pulled away, but I held her hand, not letting go.

"Ms. Morgan!" Madame Dabney called out, as Cammie tried to get away from me.

"I mean, if you could excuse me for a moment." She finally got out of my hold on her hand, and sprinted out the door. For a moment, I forgot about what Solomon told me, and I stood there. Stupidly upset at Cammie's rejection. She left me.

After a second of mourning my lost dance with Cammie, I realized that she left. I ran out after her, but not before I slammed into Solomon, and he asked, "Where is she?"

"I'm looking!" I ran past him. He spoke into his comms, but I was gone before I heard him.

I had to shove past Professor Buckingham, who was informing me about some rules or whatever of the dance. I ran past her, looking down the hallways._ Where was Cammie?_

I thought about going to her room, but that was too obvious, so I went to that passageway where I first saw her come out of a wall. I ran down the hallway, and walked into the back corridor. She wasn't there.

I leaned against the wall. "Shit." But, almost as soon as I said that, Cammie burst around the corner. I instantly gave her a look. Um, what was I supposed to say? "Hey Gallagher Girl, I thought I'd find you here." No, I didn't. She halted in her tracks.

Cammie sighed, and then looked around. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. She was very squirmy.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, breathless.

"Looking for you." I blurted, without even consulting my logical spy-side.

"Why?" Why? Because Gallagher Girl, I'm afraid my mother might come to kidnap you, or kill you, or basically torture you for information we're not certain you have. That's why.

"Because this was where you were the other day. I thought this was where you come," What the hell could I say? "When you're upset." I stepped closer and looked her in the eyes. She stepped back. "So what is it Gallagher Girl?" She flinched.

"CODE BLACK. CODE BLACK. CODE BLACK." A robotic voice droned on throughout the school. Then the lights went out. My mother was caught. I wasn't needed anymore. So I sprinted down the hallway, without a sound.

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I ran into Solomon on my way to my room. He said one thing: "She got away."

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**Sorry guys, I wasn't super enthusiastic about the first half of this. I was like, blah. Screw that, I'll write the last half then go back, but, blargh. Then I finished the last half, then went back and scrapped the original first part. I'm not totally in love with it, but hey! It doesn't absolutely suck anymore… Reviews mean sneak peeks, so review, review, review! (Or follow/favorite and amuse me when I PM you ;) And, guys! Over 1,300 views! Thank you!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Well, everyone, I had this finished… so here it is!**

Because of the extensive cooking the chefs did last night, I was eating cereal with Grant and Jonas on either side of me. I wasn't really complaining about the cereal, because we've had worse to eat at Blackthorne. My friends were talking, but I focused on my food. And Cammie. But, trust me; it was mostly on my food.

I glanced at Cammie's table, which I had found myself doing a lot lately. Tina was there. And from the few weeks I had been at Gallagher, I realized that she was full of bullshit. A new conspiracy theory every day, and ridiculous ideas that would obviously never happen. I usually wanted to laugh at whatever she was saying. In fact, I was dying to hear their current conversation. I looked back to my cereal for a second, and then back to the table, and she appeared in front of me. Not Cammie, but Tina. All the girls at their table were staring at me. And I did _not_ like being the center of attention.

"You were with Cammie? During the Code Black?" _What_? First of all: how'd she figure that out? Second: why would that be any of her business? I snuck a look at Cammie. She was staring right at me. _Oh_. _That's_ _how_ _a Tina_ _found_ _out_. But Tina didn't need to know anything about my ordeals. I thought it would be a good time to be a total ass, and maybe everyone would stop staring at me.

"Cammie? Morgan? Why would I have been with her?" Tina raised an eyebrow. Cammie was at her table, turning red. Serves her, I'd piss her off if she spread around my whereabouts during the Code Black. None of her friends' business.

"Really? We all thought that you snuck out with her to go to the dance, in Roseville." A dance? In Roseville? DeeDee must've invited us to _that. _And Cammie didn't even tell me that I might be of suspicion among the girls. _Well, thanks, Gallagher Girl._

I didn't go to the Roseville dance, so it wouldn't exactly be lying if I said: "No. I was here." Tina had a smug smile. She looked at Cammie, then back at me. She shook her head. One last look at Cammie, and I knew she was pissed off. Her face was turning red, and her lips were pursed. I would get my opportunity to give her a piece of my mind, but I knew she had just as much to say to me.

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I was right. After all my classes, I went to the P&E barn to lay off some steam. I was annoyed that Cammie had blabbed to Tina. I knew I was severely overreacting, but that moment alone with Cammie was spoiled when Tina started asking questions. So I pounded my fists against the bag until I had finally worked up a sweat and started to forget about how Cammie had messed up. Then she walked into the barn. Actually, she stormed in.

"You liar!" I refrained from punching the bag harder. I stopped for a moment and turned to her. So what? I'm a liar. Our profession, by definition. Even so, I didn't need her spreading rumors, even if they were true, about me sneaking out of the dance.

"Spy." It's the most I could say without calling her out for not being able to keep something as stupid as talking to me a secret.

"Zach! You know I didn't breach security last night. You know I didn't cause the Code Black." _Yeah. I know. But was it necessary for Tina to know where I was? With you?_

I was acting like a little kid. Stubborn and uncooperative. "Oh, I thought it was a false alarm." She slammed the bag. She was acting like a kid, too. "Not bad. Put your shoulder into it now." Her eyes lit up, becoming livid.

"I know how to do it." _Well? Show me._

"Do you?" I winked at her, just to push her over the edge. _I_ was mad, so that justified me for pissing her off. Before I could react, she whipped her leg around in a roundhouse kick and the bag flew back and landed me in the stomach. It hurt, a lot. "Nice one, Gallagher Girl."

"Don't call me-" I pushed the bag aside and placed my hands on her shoulders. She would have to deal with the sweat. Cammie slightly recoiled from the contact.

_Hear_ _me_ _out_, _Gallagher_ _Girl_. I looked into her eyes, silently begging her to see things from my point of view. I hated being noticed. I was a pavement artist, and being put on the spot is not a good thing. "Look, do you really want everyone knowing we were together? Do you think that maybe what happened last night isn't any of Tina Walters's business?" I took my hands off of her and wiped my forehead. "Besides, I thought you liked your interludes secret and mysterious. Your boyfriends private." That came out bad. She was going to take it the wrong way. I meant to say: _I thought you liked to stay out of the spotlight _or something like that. And where did the boyfriend comment come from? A guy could dream, couldn't he?

She stepped back. "We weren't having an interlude. And you're not my boyfriend."

"Yeah. I noticed." I retorted. I punched the bag as hard as I could_. You won't even give me the time of day._

"What's that supposed to mean?" The punching bag kept swinging, obstructing my view of her. _It means, Gallagher Girl, that I have a stupid crush on you but I can't vocalize it, and you're not making it any easier by telling your friends that we were together and that I really can't function when you're around. Also, I don't like being in the spotlight. You put me there._ I couldn't say any of that.

"You're the Gallagher girl, figure it out. Besides, at my school, we learn to _keep_ a secret." I snapped. _Why were feelings so damn difficult?_

"Yeah, I know. I go to a school like yours." I _almost_ forgave her for her pure innocence. Her school was a place for princesses, for girls who were too smart to go to normal school. Blackthorne was for boys who were too dangerous, too deadly and too screwed up to go to normal school. Her school _was_ _not_ similar to mine. Not in a million years would our schools be considered _alike_. But she wouldn't know that.

I sighed, giving up because of her pathetic assumption. "Do you?"

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I got up early the next day. Not too early, but early enough that I could get in a run without being interrupted by one of the girls or teachers. I've already had enough of the Gallagher residents.

As I left my room, Dr. Steve was standing in our hallway, waiting for everyone to come out of their room.

"Good morning, Zach. Still taking advantage of the morning, I see."

"Yeah," I started, clueless as to why he was up so early and in our hall instead of his room.

"Excellent! Help me wake up the rest of the gentlemen, so we can take another trip to our capital." For living with screwed up teenagers his entire life, he had an absurdly optimistic personality.

I nodded and walked to each door and pounded. That would be enough information, they knew the drill. Dr. Steve grabbed a file folder and tucked it under his arm. _A mission?_

Slowly, all fifteen boys emerged from the rooms, waiting to see why they were robbed of their sleep. The other boys were becoming accustomed to the Gallagher schedule. I haven't been sleeping much, so I didn't have the chance to change my ways.

Everyone was standing in the hallway, rubbing their eyes and stretching. We all looked at Dr. Steve, waiting for the reason as to why we had to be here with him.

"Gentlemen, we are going to take a break from the excellent Gallagher Academy and visit Washington D.C. again. We have something to do." No one made any move. "What are you waiting for? Go get dressed, in normal clothes!"

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**It's shorter than usual... I was gonna post the next part, but then it'd get **_**really**_** long. And, if you noticed, my chapters have been getting progressively longer. And would've kept going in that direction. So… short (ish) chapter to start my process over… Haha, that means no Tuesday update, but I'm aiming for…. Thursday…? Ok, L8r G8rs!**

**(Reviews mean sneak peeks!)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Wow. I'm really rolling this out. Mainly because I have nothing to do all weekend. Yeah. Internet is my entire plan for the entire weekend. Don't mind me… And I don't think that I disclaimed the last chapter, so consider it disclaimed. And this one, too.**

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We climbed the stairs to the roof of the school. We didn't see any of the girls or the teachers; they wouldn't even be awake until later. On the roof, there was an awaiting helicopter. The whirring blades cut through the morning silence of the small town. Dr. Steve climbed into the pilot seat as we boarded the helicopter.

As we took off, Dr. Steve explained to us what we were going to be doing. "So, basically, this man was a link between agents in the Circle. So, now these two agents don't need to communicate anymore due to their target being _eliminated_. But, now we need to cut out the middle man, and the agents are to busy with the next part of their mission."

"So what are we doing exactly?" Jonas asked.

"An assassination, of Senator Orton. He was providing some of our agents with information concerning the terrorist activity including our own organization. But after a while, he realized that he was aiding the enemy. He backed out immediately. Still, he has too much knowledge on our inner workings." He reached for his file folder and tossed it back to us. Grant opened it. Dr. Steve continued. "An inside man provided this for us." Grant pulled out a photo, a description, and an itinerary and passed them around, careful for them to not blow out the doors. "He suspects that he's going to be killed, so it'll have to be careful." Grant pulled out a map of D.C. and showed us where Dr. Steve had highlighted where Orton would be this time of day and later in the morning.

After another thirty minutes of flying and Jonas asking redundant questions, we arrived in the capital of the United States.

The helicopter landed on the roof of a hospital, but the engines didn't cut. "I'll be going back to Gallagher for the day, so you boys will be on your own. So, draw a bill and whoever gets a ten is a sniper today." He held out his wallet, and each boy took a bill without looking. I got one dollar. Pavement walking today. Grant got a ten: the sniper position. "Mr. Newman, west church tower. Gun's already there. Here's a silencer. Use it, because we don't want any trouble." He tossed the gun accessory to him as the rest of the boys grabbed the money. A junior and a senior got sniper positions, too. Jonas and Sam, a junior who was a serious geek, reached for the last bills. Dr. Steve snapped his wallet shut. "Not you two. You'll be manning the comms station in room 432 below." Under his breath he added, "We don't want a repeat of Brunei." He was usually upbeat and obnoxious, unless it involved something as sadistic as an assassination. It was a frightening change from his usual demeanor.

"Hey, Zach, I get to shoot the sniper. In your face!" Surprisingly, Grant found joy in killing people, as did _all_ of the boys from Blackthorne. You couldn't really blame them; most of them were raised there, only learning those skills, instead of, I don't know… ethics? So, killing is in our blood. Mine, too, but I didn't have a thirst for death, but rather it was a natural reaction to kill. It sounds _a lot _worse than it is. I mean, if I had to kill someone or be killed, hell, that person would be dead in a second. But, I don't go out _wanting_ to kill anybody.

A junior handed out comms. Our headmaster said, "Quick and clean, boys. We don't want to disappoint the Circle, now, do we?" All the time, these stupid missions that are too dirty or too dangerous for any sensible adult to do were placed in our capable, but young, hands. I grabbed my comms, and stopped my remarks from spilling over.

I stepped out of the helicopter, inserted the little speaker into my ear, and shoved through the doors and down the stairs. Instantly, Dr. Steve's voice bellowed over the small piece of technology. "Alright, gentlemen, go get'em." I rolled my eyes, already halfway to the ground level. Four flights down, and I heard Grant over my comms, "Hey, dumbass, don't screw up." He joked.

"Don't jam the gun, either." I responded, wishing I could see his face. He hated being reminded of the field trip to Moscow where he was the one that failed.

"Zip it." Jonas scolded us over the comms. As soon as I got out of the hospital, I saw the Gallagher helicopter fly back south. He'd be back within about six hours, no matter how quick we killed Orton. And I had one dollar. And I wanted breakfast. Sucks for me, doesn't it? Setting up an assassination on an empty stomach. I walked past the parking lot for the hospital, and down a busy street.

Sam informed all the guys as we spread through the easternmost part of D.C. that the senator's itinerary said he was scheduled for a press meeting at a dining hall. Grant was way ahead of me, heading to the church towers that towered above the town. I headed a few blocks north, and was looking at all the all the people, admiring the simplicity of civilian life. A few minutes among them, and I could almost pretend like I belonged. 

An update came through my comms, shattering my thoughts. "Navy pinstripe suit, crew cut, and briefcase. Heading northeast." The first report of the senator, with more sure to come.

Everyone was relaying the senator's position every few minutes, and it went on for a couple of hours. "Zach, you're on. Due North." I stood from my bench, and walked down the street. "He's nearby. Get him alone. We'll take it from there." The senior directed from his post.

"Alright." I saw a man cut through the crowd. The way he walked, I could tell that he was going somewhere, avoiding people, trying to be in then out of the crowd. Orton.

I increased my stride, seeing a freshman and a junior each turn different corners and into my line of vision. I bumped into the senator and walked a few feet in front of him. I slowed down, and felt him ram into my back. "Excuse me," he said.

"No, excuse me, Mr. Senator." I took a breath, ready for the bad part of my job. "I'm sorry, but you're going to need to come with me." I grabbed his forearm and dragged him toward an alley, the crowd oblivious. The worst part was on its way. The part that was irreversible.

"Wait-" He struggled in my grasp, trying to get away. I mean, I don't think he was suspecting a teenager to come for him, so I bet he was confused. He didn't yell out, didn't cause a panic. He was taking his inevitable death rather well. He tried pulling away again.

"Don't bother struggling; we can do it here, or somewhere more private. Same consequences, though." The poor guy, he didn't deserve this. To be killed in an alley just for passing around information on terrorist activity. He thought he was doing some good by informing people of terrorist action. It wasn't his fault. One last push into the alley, and out onto a back street without any pedestrian traffic.

The two others I saw came around from a different alley, blocking off any escape routes.

Orton looked around, realizing he was cornered. "What's going on?" I shoved him away from me, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire. He spun slowly, looking at each of us in turn.

"You know too much. So we have to get rid of you." The junior stated, bluntly.

His eyes widened, realizing his fate. "Now, boys. Let's not make this difficult. How about-" His words were cut off as his knees buckled and his skull hit the pavement. The head wound bled and stained the cobblestones. He didn't even get to finish his sentence. The snipers got him first.

"Target acquired. Come on guys, head back to the roof." I took one last glance at the dead senator. He had done nothing wrong, but got involved with the wrong people. But that bullet, that bullet is what ended his life. And I had caused it. It was my fault that he was dead. Not directly, but my fault all the same. Every time I killed, or saw someone die, a part of me broke on the inside.

The worst part was that I knew that this would be my demise, too. Not a heart attack, not a lung failure. I'd be killed in action, or assassinated. _Did the senator have any family? Of course, dumbass, he had _somebody_. What was the last thing he said to them? _ My brain decided to have a debate over something that couldn't be changed. It was too late. We were responsible for tearing a family in half. We changed someone's life, and most certainly not for the better. I imagined how I would die, and maybe leave someone behind. As if someone could look past my profession and become part of my fucked up family.

_Cammie could look past my job, she has the same one._

Holy shit. Did I think that? No. _No future with Cammie_. No. I pushed all thoughts of her, of us, of anything out of my head as I walked back to the hospital, dreading when the senator's family would get the news.

_Cammie could look past my profession, but my family? My mom's the reason her dad is dead. Damn it! No more thinking about her!_

Doing the Circle's awful business. Why'd they have to bring _kids_ into this? We should not be able to do this. Killing. Unnatural.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

**Ok, whoever went on my profile and voted on my (joke) poll that you liked **_**puffy**_** cheese curls; you are no longer considered one of my friends. That's right. There **_**was**_** a right answer. And it was **_**crunchy**_**…. (*angry face*) Puffy cheese curls are 80% air! Why?! No! Crunchy…. *end of rant***

**Now: Story, story, story!**

**First thing you should know about me: Hunger Games fanatic. Like, major obsession. We were watching, I believe, the new Red Dawn, (Josh Hutcherson, Josh Peck, and Chris Hemsworth. Hottie overload. *sigh) and a trailer for Catching Fire comes on. (34 days left! It's also my birthday then! *squeals) Naturally, I recite it. Word. For. Word. My dad and my brother were staring at me. My dad decided to mute the television, and I kept on saying every piece of dialogue and even the music going on during the montage. When he turned the sound back on, I was still in time with the actors. My family started laughing at me… Haha…. **

**Reviews = sneak peeks! (Nudge, nudge) The last one, too, for those of you who I consider my personal posse that review every chapter no matter how late it is… Overall message: Review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi everybody…. I have nothing new and/or interesting to say today….. So go ahead and read on.**

**I don't own the Gallagher Girls or Zach. Sadly.**

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I pushed open the door of my room, tired of walking around and killing people. I stepped toward my bed, ready to flop down on it. As I took a step, I heard a faint crunch. I lifted my foot, and examined the remnants of whatever I stepped on.

A bug.

Not a fly or cockroach bug, but a little microphone. Before Grant could step through the door, I grabbed his shoulder and came in close. "Bug search. Be thorough." He nodded.

We slowly walked around, picking up the bugs from under the bed, behind our lamp, and even in our dresser. After Grant and I had found them all, we dropped them on the desk and slammed a textbook on them. _Culture_. _It finally has a use._ I swept them into a garbage bin. "Should we tell the guys?" Grant asked, and Jonas came in.

"Tell them what?"

"Nothing." I shot Grant a look. "It was just a moth. Bugs aren't any of their problems." The other guys could find them for themselves. I knew one thing for sure: Cammie wouldn't be hearing anything from my room.

"Ok?" Jonas reached for his laptop, just as I noticed something in the outlet.

"Wait!" He froze. I knelt in front of the wall, and pulled out a wiretap. These girls were really curious. Well, curiosity killed the cat. I put the small wire into my pocket. Jonas raised an eyebrow.

"The girls?"

I nodded. These girls were in over their heads. Cammie would be hearing about a certain thing called privacy.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

Why does Culture Class exist? I hate it. I walked out of the door, relieved to be going somewhere better, CoveOps. As I walked down the stairs, Cammie caught up with me. "Hey Gallagher Girl." I grinned, glad she approached me instead of the other way around. "What can I do for you?" I reached for the little wire in my pocket, ready to confront her if the opportunity showed itself.

She went a few steps in front of me then stopped at the landing. "Mr. Smith says our midterm papers have to be a joint project. And my mother said that I should make an effort to embrace the collaborative nature of this exchange experiment." Weirdly put, but okay. Anything that involves Cammie and me together: I'm all for it.

I smirked. "And you want to embrace me?" She continued down the next flight of stairs, obviously not catching on to my (bad, very bad) flirting.

"Only in the academic sense. Look, do you want to do this project or not?" We were at the bottom of the stairs, and a flood of girls were walking past. Each and every one stared at us as they came by. I hated being stared at. "So?"

"Sure, Gallagher Girl," I walked father, heading toward the elevators for CoveOps, but Cammie stood at the bottom of the stairs. Before my brain could protest, I looked back and called out, "It's a date!" I turned the corner and sighed. We had a date. Kind of.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

"Got a hot date?" Grant laughed and Jonas joined in.

I pulled on my jacket. "Actually, yeah." I smirked, obviously winning this one. "Cammie and I are doing homework together." I looked into the mirror, and made sure my hair was perfectly messed up. My smirked changed to a goofy grin, finally realizing that Cammie and I would be alone. Unless we were interrupted.

"Homework? Have fun. But don't screw it up!" I grabbed my textbook and my notebook and held them under my arm.

"Will do, Mr. _Player_." I closed the door behind me and walked toward the library. As soon as I got there, I realized that the most private tables were in the back of the room. I walked past all the stacks, admiring the extent of the Gallagher resources. Put my books on the farthest table. I pulled out a chair and sat in it, hoping that the table was private enough that we wouldn't see any more girls.

I took off my jacket, realizing that it was getting warm. Or I was getting nervous. _I had a "date" with Cammie. But I labeled it as a date. Did she think of it the same way? Why am I getting freaked out? _

Cammie finally showed up and interrupted my rant inside my head. "Hi, Zach. So, what should we start on?" She sat and opened her books.

"I don't know." I hadn't been thinking about what we'd study. I'd been preparing myself so I wouldn't say anything stupid. Even though I hadn't embarrassed myself yet, an awkward silence fell upon us for a few minutes. I couldn't think of anything to say. After a few more minutes of dead silence, she spoke up.

"Zach, I was thinking we could look at the impact of propaganda in third world economies?" Sounds _fascinating_. But I loved the way she said my name.

"Is that what you were thinking?" My thoughts were focused on her.

"Yes." She pouted. _Damn, those lips._ Did I say that out loud? "So I guess we should outline the report and maybe summarize the notes and-" Nope. In my head. Thankfully.

Cammie kept talking about the assignment, but usually she'd crack a joke by now. "Gallagher Girl, is there something you want to ask me?" I am so glad I didn't actually voice my thoughts, because if she knew that I wanted to kiss her…

_Stop thinking about that, stupid!_

"No." We returned to our reading. I already had read four pages on the economy of Afghanistan before she broke the silence.

"So," she dragged out the word.

I raised my eyebrows; silence wasn't really her thing, was it? "So," I made the word even longer.

"What do you think of the Gallagher Academy?" _Becoming formal now, are we?_ I chuckled, then realized she was expecting a response.

"Oh. It's swell."

As soon as I said that, two eighth graders came out of the rows of books and saw us. They turned to each other and started giggling._ What's up with all these girls everywhere? It's like an infestation! I know it's a school for girls, but… they're _everywhere_!_

They shuffled away, still giggling. "You handled that pretty well." Cammie stopped reading, and watched the girls exit the library.

"Well. I've had some practice, I guess. Besides, sticks and stones." Oh yeah. The Jimmy-thing. She was used to being the center of attention. I wasn't.

I tucked my hands behind my neck and pushed the legs of my chair off the ground. I was getting antsy. "I gotta say, I'm a little disappointed." She was known for being on top of things, getting in trouble, not for sitting quietly. I wanted to get into trouble. I _didn't_ want to sit quietly.

"Disappointed?" She stared at me.

"Yeah, Gallagher girl. I thought you had a reputation for being… proactive?"

Cammie shrugged and said, "Yeah. Well, what would you do if everyone thought you had breached security?" She looked me in the eyes.

It all clicked into place in my head. So that's why she wanted to be with me. Not to _be with me_, but because she was trying to _get_ to me. _The bugs, then this?_ She didn't know where to stop. A little part of me broke. Maybe she didn't feel the same about me. Maybe Bex talking to me, leading me on, was a ploy, just to learn my secrets.

I hid my hurt feelings, and forced a smile. "I'd probably find out everything I could about everyone who… was new? Who maybe didn't have an alibi the night of the ball? I might even try to get close to anyone I suspected. I might even bug their rooms if I got the chance."

Cammie'e eyes widened with shock, and from her pretty little mouth came the absolute worst fake laugh.

"But you wouldn't do any of that, would you, Gallagher girl?" I closed my book, pissed off for being played, yet again.

"Of course I-" I pulled the wire out of my pocket. I set it on the table. I avoided her eyes, because I knew one look would set me off. I stood, ready to leave.

I was done here. "I'm not all bad, Gallagher girl." I grabbed my jacket from the chair and slung it over my shoulder. "But I'm not all good, either." I walked away from the table, books in hand. "Thanks for the date!" Thanks for playing me a fool.

Bex was worried about me hurting Cammie. But, I think that Cammie had a lot more ammunition against me. She unknowingly had me wrapped around her little finger. She played me. I fell for her. I'm an idiot. I was back to looking after number one, as always.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

"Lies. We tell them to our friends. We tell them to our enemies. And eventually, we tell them to ourselves. A lie is typically accompanied by what physical symptoms, Ms. Lee?" Kim rambled off the list of tell-tale signs of a lie.

"Spies tell lies, ladies and gentlemen. But that's not what today is about. Today is about how to spot them. Now, a seasoned operative will know how to control their pulse and voice, but for the purpose of today's lesson, I think these will come in handy." He took out a box and started passing around plastic rings. "Dr. Fibs has been kind enough to share these prototypes of a new portable voice-stress analyzer he's developing," When he gave me the ring, the only thing I could think was how Cammie was so determined to find out everything about me, and Solomon had handed her an opportunity on a silver platter. Solomon continued talking, but I was so concerned that Cammie would figure something out. I couldn't afford for her to know anything. She was trying so damn hard, and I knew she'd keep trying. I looked up, glancing to Cammie, but she was already staring. Shit, she knew this was her chance to figure me out. I knew I was a good enough spy to fool a person, but I didn't know how well these rings worked.

"Partner up with person across from you, watch their eyes, pay attention to their voice. And see if you can guess who's lying."

"Oh, this should be fun," I smiled, putting on my façade. Cammie scooted her chair closer. _What would she ask? _She had an opportunity to learn my life story.

"What's your name?" Wow. She asked the most basic of questions. _Did she actually want to know anything? _I don't think that Cammie was aware of what she opportunity she had.

"Zach." I responded, awaiting the more pressing questions she could ask.

She rolled her eyes. "What's your full name?"

"That's a pretty boring question, Gallagher Girl." I couldn't stop the words from spilling over. I guess I set myself up for more of the questioning.

"Zach!"

"Yes, that's correct. See? Not lying." I held up my hand, showing her the ring. _Are we done yet?_

"Where were you during the Code Black?" She wouldn't let that go. It was her fault for talking to Tina. I absolutely refuse to be a part of a rumor.

They were pretty easy questions so far. "That's better." I couldn't help it; I actually smiled. I'd been smiling a lot around her;. Even if she pissed me off, she somehow managed to break my bad mood.

"Answer the-"

I cut her off. "I was with you, remember?" _You know that, I know that, Tina doesn't need to know. We've been over this._ I leaned in, curious about her. "My turn. Did you have fun last night?" _Say yes. Boost my self-esteem. Even though you were a bitch for leading me on, say you liked being with me._

"Zach, I don't really think that's what Solomon is going for with this particular exercise."

She would've said no. That means she did have fun. "I'll take that as a yes. We should really do it again sometime," I told her, watching her eyes. Cammie glanced at the rings, seeing if I was being honest. I wanted to do it again, but for real. No fucking with me. Just a date. And she didn't protest.

"Where are you from?"

"The Blackthorne Institute for boys." I was on an odd high because she didn't blatantly reject my request for another date.

"What do your parents do?" And she ruined it. I straightened my notebook, avoiding her concerned gaze. I hated my mom, but my dad was my idol.

My mom was kicked out of the CIA long ago, but my dad was killed. And all of a sudden, I was assaulted with memories of him. But, in all the memories, he was a faceless figure. He died so long ago, that his looks, his voice, even his laugh was gone. I remembered Sunday mornings at the breakfast table, coming home from kindergarten to big bear hugs, and then throwing a football with him. Then his funeral. Closed casket, private and intimate. Only a few people from his work had shown up. All day, I had heard "Sorry, sport, he was a good man." I was sick of it. My dad had called me sport. I couldn't remember much about him, just the little things. I had nothing to remember him by. I found his watch right after he died, but I had thrown it into the ocean. Then we moved away.

I cleared my throat, willing my voice not to crack. "What do you think they do?" I'd give her the benefit of the doubt. Whatever she said, I'd agree. The wound was still fresh. His birthday was last Monday, and I'd forgotten. I couldn't give any details about him. I think I'd break.

I raised my gaze from the table, and her eyes were soft, understanding. She knew what I was thinking. Her dad. She'd felt this, too. "They were CIA?" A whisper, as if she was trying not to break me. I couldn't have that. She wouldn't pity me.

Louder, stronger, I said, "Used to be."

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

**This chapter wasn't fabulous, but… hey! 2,000 VIEWS! Yay! I love you guys! OMG, I just need to get this off my chest: the guy I like sits right next to me in one of my classes, and today, he talked to me all class period long….. :D aksdjfl;hgdlajk Sorry. I'm done… Review for a sneak peek! :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello, everybody! This chapter is dedicated to PotatoesAndDragons for helping out and being really awesome! Also, to ButteryHighlights because she's hilarious and always online at, like, eleven at night. So she's pretty awesome, too.**

**I really didn't like the last chapter, but this chapter is my favorite piece of writing, that I HAVE EVER WRITTEN. I'm really proud of this, so go ahead and read on.**

**But I still don't own Gallagher Girls.**

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My brain was too awake and too occupied to go to sleep. Grant and Jonas had fallen asleep, but I couldn't shut off my thoughts. I ran a hand through my dark hair. _Did my dad have dark hair? _I stood up, careful not to make the floorboards creak. I stretched and glanced into the mirror, sick of overthinking. Cammie brought up my parents, and now my dad filled almost every single one of my thoughts. I tried so damn hard to put a face on that figure in my memories. My green eyes came from my mother, which I knew for sure. I was certain that none of my other features came from her. _What would he look like now? Would I look like him? _I paced the floor, forgetting about my roommates.

Grant's head lifted from his pillow, "Mmhmmn." I froze. His head went back down and the snores continued. After Grant had returned to his slumber, I crept to the door, careful not to wake either of them again. Only after I closed our door, did I realize I was clad only in sweats, a t-shirt, and socks. And it was cold.

I decided to take a walk through the school, dressed appropriately or not. Shuffling my feet on the tile, my thoughts went back to Cammie. It was welcomed break from thinking of my dad. Cammie. Why was she always so pleasantly plaguing my thoughts? I should've been mad at her. She started a rumor, played with my feelings, and was spying on me. Why did I always find myself thinking of her? Maybe it was because she did ask me on a date, laughed at my jokes, and knew what I'd been through. Her dad. My dad.

I hadn't noticed where I'd walked to. I ended up in a side hallway, among the portraits of past Gallagher headmistresses. The last photo on the wall was Cammie's mom.

The resemblance was striking. I could easily see the cheekbones, the shape of their faces, and the tilt of their heads, as if they were amused at something. From looking at Cammie and her mom, I couldn't fathom what her dad could've looked like. I focused on the portrait, trying to piece together the other half of Cammie's family. Cammie had a playful grin, while her mother's was sophisticated. Cammie's smile. Did she get that from her dad? Her mother also lacked Cammie's dimples. I suppose that if I looked close enough, I could find traits her mom and Cammie didn't share.

And at that moment, I realized that I'd been paying way too much attention to Cammie.

One last glance down the wall of portraits, and I noticed the fireplace. And, more importantly, I noticed the noises coming from the fireplace. Soft thuds, almost inaudible. But it was entirely too loud for the absolute silence of the school corridor. I leaned closer, waiting for the monster to pop out. Then I realized that the noises were footsteps.

I stepped back, just as a foot landed on the hearth. Cammie. She was way better than any monster.

"So the tour is closed, huh?" She shot up, clearly not suspecting me. Her head slammed on the mantle. She winced.

"Ow! What are you doing here?" I shouldn't have surprised her. She was holding the back of her head, staring at me as if I had something wrong going on inside my head.

Guilty that I caused her to get hurt, I held my hand out, "Come on." I gently took hold of her arm and drew her close to my chest. I ran a hand through her hair, looking for the bump she was sure to have in the morning. She tried to pull out of my embrace, but I held tight. I wasn't going to let her go so fast. "You'll live." I finally let her take a step back, missing her warmth immediately as she let go.

She was taken aback. "You're being nice." She watched me, like she was trying to decide if I was up to something. But she had earned my compassion. Cammie stayed quiet and didn't press me further when I was in a moment of weakness. Everything she had done previously was forgotten when Solomon pulled out the rings and Cammie had seen me so close to crumbling.

I sighed. "Don't tell anyone." I held my arms over my chest, restraining from shivering. My shirt wasn't providing much warmth and the cool tiles were making my feet cold. Socks don't provide much insulation.

I finally registered that she came out of a _fireplace. _I thought of all the reasons on why she would be lurking during this time of night, and I instantly thought of the operation she was running. She was spying, as usual. "Did your bugs hear anything interesting?" She attempted to hide her disbelief. I slid my hands into my pockets, still feeling the lack of warmth. She was speechless. "What is it Gallagher Girl? No snappy comebacks? Nonexistent cat named Suzie got your tongue?"

"How do you know about Suzie?"

"Spy." The moonlight shone in the hallway, illuminating her face. Never before had she seemed so pretty, even in her ball gown. I found myself leaning closer and closer, until I was inches away. _I could kiss her now. _My hand reached up to her cheek, and brushed away a piece of hair.

I pulled away. My gaze fell to the ground, embarrassed and ashamed. Only a few minutes before, I had been thinking of how we had both lost our dads. My mother caused both of the tragic deaths. I had a legacy, and, regardless of my name, it was not a good one. My mother killed her father. My family ripped apart hers. She would never forgive me for that. I couldn't kiss her. If she knew about my mom, she wouldn't allow it to happen. Not in a million years.

I was mortified to know what my mother did. But I didn't even know how much Cammie knew of her father's death. How bad it really hurt. Sickened, I wanted to know how my mother murdered Cammie's dad, if she had any information, or even if she'd tell me. "Why don't you ask me about it? About them?" I let my eyes rise from my feet. "I'll tell you mine if you'll tell me yours." I might actually get to talk about my dad; I'd never talked about him out loud before. Even thinking of talking about him threatened to shatter my tough-guy front.

I forced myself to breathe. All the emotions I'd kept pent up since my father's death eight years ago were threatening to spill over. Cammie's eyes locked with mine, but I went back to examining my socks. Her hand came out to touch my arm, but she pulled back before she could try and comfort me.

Whispering, she said, "It was a mission. Four years ago, my dad went on a mission. He didn't come home. Nobody knows what…happened." Her voice cracked.

She didn't know _anything_. I knew more about her dad's final days than she did. "Somebody knows." I didn't mean to, but I had just given her false hope, as if I could possibly tell her anything about her dad. I had never felt as guilty as I did then. I couldn't tell her what she wanted to know most.

"What? What are you saying?"

"I'm saying somebody knows." I strengthened my voice, but remaining gentle. I didn't yell, didn't snap, but she needed to know this. "I'm saying you shouldn't act like there aren't any answers just because you haven't taken the time to look for them." I hadn't investigated farther than knowing my mother was the reason my dad died, and I regretted it every day. I was only eight then. But as I grew older, I should've pursued why he upset the Circle. Why he was dead.

"What am I supposed to do, Zach. I'm just-" _Just a girl who was raised to hide, to blend in, to learn? A girl who was trained to tail and track and follow? To find out the truth, to be for the greater good? A spy? _But she wouldn't voice any of that. I knew exactly what she was thinking.

"Just a girl?" I let out the breath I was holding. I shrugged, trying to put up my broken-down walls. "I thought you were a Gallagher Girl." All of a sudden I felt my anger at myself, at my mother, at my dad, bubble up. I turned around, leaving her alone in the hall. I walked through the school blinded by my emotions, until I found an abandoned classroom. I shut the door behind me and sank to the ground. I pulled on my hair, willing myself not to cry. My mother couldn't look past her duty to her terrorist group, even if it meant killing her husband. My dad had been fooled by my mom. He didn't fight back. I hadn't given a second thought to my dad's death. I hadn't been able to avoid the age-old radical group. I was trying to pry apart Cammie and trick her into telling me her secrets. I was falling for a girl who I could never be with. I couldn't stay strong, not then. Forgetting the cold and drowning myself in my feelings, I fell asleep against the door.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

**Much better than the last chapter! Don't you think? Sooooo…. My story for this week (it's short): my hamster was given a baby carrot, but he was carrying it through his tube and he got stuck and it was really cute and he eventually dropped it and ate it where he was sitting. HE'S SO CUTE. \(*u*)/**

**Haha, so go review and tell me something cool!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello! Sorry for the late update, but this chapter was difficult, mostly because it's a filler chapter….. And the first draft was awful. Haha, but PotatoesAndDragons and Buttery Highlights helped make it better! Also, a shout out to Irish Gallagher Girl, because I reviewed one of her stories and I turns out we like the same kind of music! (This is kinda rare for me…. Stupid mainstream pop…) So she is now one of my internet BFFs. (if you're out there reading…. You are on that list of interwebernet-friends!) I don't have a witty disclaimer this week, but I will just say that I don't own the Gallagher Girls.**

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I blinked my eyes, torn between staying asleep and facing my dreams of my dad, or waking up and facing real life. I couldn't decide which was worse. "Ugh," I rolled my neck, trying to get rid of the stiffness.

Papers rustled. I looked up to the front of the room. Solomon sat at the teacher's desk with his feet propped up. He turned another page in his stack of papers. "Joe?" I rubbed my eyes, hoping they weren't red and puffy from last night.

"Good morning, Mr. Goode. How did you sleep?" He twirled his pen in his fingers then stopped to mark the page in front of him. He flipped another page, not even glancing toward me.

I got up off the floor and stretched my cramped muscles. Sleeping against a wall wasn't very smart. "Not too well. What are you doing here? And what time is it?" I hoped it wasn't too late, because then I'd have to face people and explain my strange apparel.

"I could ask the same of you. Classes start in two hours. But why would you be out of your room at this hour?" He took his feet off the desk and put down the papers.

I walked away from the door and to the front row of desks. I sat in the one closest to Solomon's seat. I balanced my elbows on the table, and my chin in my hands. I sighed. "Cammie and I were talking last night." He raised his eyebrows in question, but I continued. "We were talking about our dads." He nodded, clearly understanding where this was going. "My dad was killed when I was eight. Cammie's dad was killed when she was in sixth grade." He nodded again. This wasn't any new information. Here comes the bomb: "My mom killed them both." I cast my gaze toward the floor, ashamed of my mother and what she's done. I didn't know if I wanted to see his reaction.

I heard the wheels of his chair turning, then his fist knocking lightly on my desk. I looked up, expecting more questions. Instead, I see his concerned expression. It's not every day he'd see a boy made of stone crumble to pieces, and I was coming close, once again. "I'm sorry." He said, not asking more about the newfound information I had just given him.

I sat up straighter. "For what? That I have terrible parentage? That my dad is dead? That after eight years, I still have to stop and take a breather when I talk about them? Because I'm not made of steel, contrary to what everyone seems to think?" I snapped. Rather than letting my grievances come forward, my anger kind of showed through. What was there to be sorry for?

He shook his head. "That's not what I'm sorry for. I'm sorry because I never got to meet your dad. He must've been pretty great. I mean, look how you turned out. I know your mother can't be credited for that." He chuckled, trying to cheer me up.

Solomon was pretty cool, I'll have to admit. Even though I totally deserved to be kicked in the gut for being rude, he was remaining calm. I let out a sigh. "He was a great guy, but could we avoid that conversation? That's what led me to have a mental breakdown last night." I rubbed my neck, feeling bad for snapping at him.

"Sure thing. But you might want to catch a shower before classes. Wake yourself up." He gestured toward the door. "Go. What are you waiting for?"

One question still remained in my mind. "How'd you find me?"

He smirked. "My career is training teenagers for real life field work and participating in real life missions. It's in my job description to keep an eye on my students. And I also have to keep track of Cammie, make sure she doesn't bolt in the middle of the night." He winked. I forced a chuckle and stood up.

"Thanks, Solomon. I think I'm going to get dressed then eat something." I stood up and left the room, and headed toward my room.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

I shook out my damp hair and slipped on my shirt. I wrapped my tie around my neck and knotted it. I still had more time to walk around, because the guys wouldn't be up for a while. I decided to get an early breakfast, and then try to go back and talk to Solomon more. Turning the corner, I wondered what the chefs were preparing.

But, apparently, Bex was up, too. She was wearing flannel pants and a tank top: her pajamas. She was walking toward me, her stride determined. I nodded a greeting at her, but as soon as she got near enough, her passive expression became one of anger.

Bex grabbed my sleeve, and before I could react, pushed me against the wall, her forearm pressing against my neck. What was she _thinking_?

"What did you say to Cammie?" She was livid; her eyes were dark with anger, and she was glaring at me.

After spending a few seconds straining to breathe, I choked out, "Cammie? I don't know. When?" In between ragged breaths, I tried to escape her hold. "But maybe if you allowed me… to _breathe_… then we could talk about it." She stared at me, as if I was the one who was doing wrong.

Bex stopped blocking my airflow and stepped back from the wall. I gasped for breath and cleared my throat. She started to talk, angrily. "Last night, Cammie came back to the room in tears. She was _crying_. And why would the unbreakable girl start crying? Why, Zach?" Cammie started crying last night. I never considered how she'd take our little discussion of parents.

"I don't know." Lie. Cammie didn't like talking about her dad, and I stupidly didn't think of how she'd react.

"Oh, I know that you know. And to think that I've been helping you all along!" She yelled.

Wait. What? "_Helping _me? You've been threatening me all semester." The glares and the little talks that consisted of her warning me to not break Cammie were always there in my mind.

"Answer the question, Zach. Why was she crying?" Bex took a step forward, ready to strangle me again.

"I brought up her parents, and mine, too." I looked down at my feet, hoping that I wouldn't have to explain my parental situation _again. _And it was to make it harder for her to get to my neck.

"Oh." Bex backed away. She knew that the topic of parents was sketchy with Cammie, and she was accustomed to avoiding that conversation.

"And back to the topic of 'helping me'." I showed air quotes around the phrase. I wanted to get off the topic of my parents. Too many people were discovering my secrets, and I wanted them to stay _secret_.

She had a lopsided grin, reeking of subtle guile. "I dropped a bug by your door. Obviously you found it, because we have absolutely no feed from your room. But why didn't you tell the others?" She raised one eyebrow, questioning my choice of actions.

It was my turn to hint at duplicity. She wasn't telling Cammie everything, so why did she think I'd tell the guys? "Because they're supposedly good enough to find them, so it's not my problem. But why did you leave the bug on the ground?" As much as she wanted to know, I had just as many questions as she did.

"Cammie was getting obsessed, and she got obsessed with Josh. And look how well that turned out." She smirked but then made her voice quieter, like she didn't know if I should hear the next part. "And I think that you're not that bad and you could have a chance with her. So, if we let it be, maybe it'll turn out right."

"You think it'd turn out well?" I was hopeful. I had thought that my crush was in vain, but Bex thought something could come of it, too. She nodded. A little one, but a nod nonetheless.

"Unless you break her heart. Then I break your neck." I laughed when she said that, because I had heard that before. "What's so funny about breaking her heart?" 

"Nothing. Joe had said that on one of my first days here."

"Joe's a smart man. Do me a favor and keep on the down-low for a bit? Don't try to stir up feelings in Cammie just yet. Let her recover."

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

And that's exactly what I did. For a whole week, I avoided her. I couldn't look at her, I couldn't talk to her, I couldn't mention her name. That night, because I had called her out for giving up, I had broken her, too. And we both needed time to heal.

One night, when I had finally thought I could approach her again, I decided I would talk to her in them morning. So, as I settled on my bed and put my head down, there was a soft noise. I pulled out a folded piece of paper that was hidden beneath my pillow.

_Stay smart. Stay focused._

_Don't get too attached. Remember your mission. Your priorities._

_~Mother_

I stared at the note. My mother. I was technically still employed by my mother. I was shocked back to the reality of my situation, and how Cammie and I came from separate halves of the world. _I guess I won't talk to her in the morning. _ I put my head down. I was sick and tired of my double life.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

Another week went by. Another week of me taking the long way around so I wouldn't bump into her in the hallways. Another week of me sitting by myself, in the back of the room. Another week of being by myself. And I had just gotten used to the idea of inclusion.

The Friday of my week-without-Cammie, Dr. Steve announced that we would be going into town this weekend.

It was a perfect opportunity to forget the awful half of my life and pretend like it was normal. I grabbed a piece of Evapopaper and scribbled a note to Cammie. I shoved it into my pocket and headed outside, to the Grand Hall, where I knew Cammie would eventually show up. The note was a cowardly act on my part. I couldn't just approach her and ask her out. That was uncharted territory for me.

Out of the hallway and into the Grand Hall, I noticed that Cammie was already climbing down the stairs. I wouldn't have any time to talk myself out what I was about to do.

When she reached the bottom, I headed toward the stairs myself. When we got near enough, I bumped into her and muttered sorry. The sorry was applicable to so many things among "accidentally" running into her. As I knocked into her side, my hand dropped the paper into her pocket.

Too late to back out now. I jogged up the stairs, and wandered the halls until I came once again to my room. I slid in and closed the door. I must've had a pretty wacky grin on my face, because Grant and Jonas both gave me weird looks. "What's going on?" Jonas asked.

"I think I may have a date."

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

**There it is. Not the most exciting thing ever, but hey. Whatever. It's out…. I think I may want to do the next book from Zach's POV…. Any objections? I think it'd be more fun, because there's a lot more to fill in, and if I start it as a story, rather than a one-shot, it'd be a whole lot easier… yeah. But I have another story I'm working on before that, soooooooo… idk. Yeah.**

**My story: I didn't do my science homework (because it's not required, only encouraged) and my teacher asked me why not, and I said that I knew everything on it so I didn't find it necessary… he said OK and walked away…. Later, he lectured the class on why we should do it, because apparently only four (out of almost thirty) did the assignment….. ah, I love my school. (please note the sarcasm)**

**Reviews get sneak peeks! (hint, hint)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi everybody! I have no clue if this was a late update, or on time, or early. (Haha, I know it's not the last one…) To the guest who wanted me to tone down the swearing: I am…. It's lessened in each chapter. FYI. (Sorry, that sounded sassy….) I appreciated your review, and I didn't swear in this one! ;) And on a (somewhat) unrelated note… I'm conflicted about guest reviews, because I love them all, but I like talking to people and replying and getting advice and sharing advice and telling jokes and just talking to you guys! (And there are several of you who can advocate for me…) I respond to every favorite, every follow, and every review! So go ahead…. Talk to me! And I do believe thanks to ButteryHighlights and PotatoesAndDragons are in order…. Thanks for reading everything over before I showcase it to the world!**

**I think if I save up my allowance, maybe I can by the rights of our marvelous Zachary Goode ;) But for the time being, Ally gets to keep him… :(**

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

Zipping up my hoodie, I wondered what Cammie would think of my vague idea of a "date". Honestly, I had no clue what we'd do. I didn't even know what we _could _do in Roseville. But I was excited nonetheless. I bent down to tie my sneakers, just as Grant came back into our room.

"Dude, that's what you're wearing? I thought you wanted to impress Cammie?"

Well, so much for my confidence. "I do. You land that date with Bex?" I knew he didn't, but I wanted to hear him say it.

"No." Jonas, sitting at his computer, stifled a snicker.

I smirked. "Then I'll keep doing what I'm doing, and you stay out of it." Grant grunted then grabbed his sweatshirt.

"Come on, we're walking to town." I nodded and Jonas shut his laptop. He reached into one of the drawers and pulled out our comms. He asked, "Worst case scenario?" I reached for mine and tucked it in my pocket. But I didn't want to think about the worst case scenario. After all, I had a date.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

It was windy. That's all I could say about the walk out to the town. You know, other than how great Cammie looked. She was wearing a nice pair of jeans and a pretty shirt, but she was still gorgeous. I kept looking out of the corner of my eye to the petite girl, wondering why she was so shy. She shouldn't be. Why did she spend her time inside the walls, hiding? She could've easily stood out if she wanted.

Her hair was in her face, but I resisted the urge to push it back behind her ears. I kept my hands in my pocket, afraid that they'd reach out to her on their own accord. But she fixed it by herself. I forced my eyes away from her pretty face, afraid she'd catch me staring. Behind us, I heard Grant start flirting with Bex, and her laughing at him. Whether Grant was getting somewhere or he was making a fool of himself, I didn't know. I was certainly getting nowhere. I glanced back to them, but Grant had given up and was messing around with a junior from Blackthorne. I glimpsed back at Cammie, and she had a frown on her face along with worry lines on her forehead.

Was I doing something wrong? Well, first of all, I wasn't doing anything. I hadn't even said anything after: "Hey." I wasn't starting this date off well. But we were nearing town, and maybe I'd take her somewhere. I heard the growing buzz of the town, and Main Street came into view. It was unusually full of hubbub, so I felt relieved. Blending in was easier with more people. But I was on a date with Cammie. I didn't need to blend in. It was a chance to be normal. Or as normal as I could be. Is dating always this complicated?

We walked out onto the sidewalk, and all the students split up. Bex, Liz, and Macey were conveniently behind Cam and me. But otherwise, we were alone.

I noticed how neither Cam nor I had said anything to each other, and our absolute silence was contrasting to the town's joyful noisiness. I about asked her what she wanted to do, but Cammie asked first. "Do you want to do something?"

I said the first thing that popped into my head. "We could go to a movie. Or get something to eat." The worst part: I didn't know where anything was here. No restaurants, no movie theaters, and no bowling alleys were in my mental map. I really hoped she said no. I'd prefer to just walk around and talk.

"Okay." Or I guess that we would go do something. I tried looking past the hordes of people and the parade. Why was there a parade going on? I couldn't see past the floats and the crowds, I'd have no chance of finding somewhere to go.

I think Cammie might've noticed my confusion. Softly, she added, "Or we could just … walk." I restrained myself from wringing my hands, needing something to do to calm my nerves. Resisting the urge, I pressed my hands deeper into my pockets.

"Okay." I let out the breath I had been insentiently holding. We kept walking, avoiding the flood of people. Cammie looked around, worry lines still there. I was epically failing my first date.

"Or we could have that clown over there paint our faces and then go rob the bank." I joked, hoping she'd realize that I was trying. I gave a breathy laugh, struggling to keep this sinking boat afloat.

The lines on her forehead disappeared, and her eyes lit up. "No way. Last October they installed a Stockholm series 360-it'd take us at least forty-five minutes to crack it." We both let out chuckles, patching up the awkwardness of the date thus far. I guess I wasn't completely failing my first date.

I was glad she wasn't having an awful time. Her laughing was a good sign, right? "Good to know." Our laughs died out, and suddenly, I had an idea, one that'd make this the best date ever. I finally worked up the courage to grab her hand, once again feeling its softness. I led her through the throngs of the townies, pulling her onto a side street. No people were here, no one was walking nearby. Perfect.

"So, plant any good bugs lately?" I tried to keep my nerves at bay. I was going to win against my conscience, which was telling me not to do what I was about to. I smiled. I was finally going to do it. I lowered my voice, making it gentle. "Just so you know, I'm going to kiss you now." My hands reached up to find the back of her neck, feeling her hair through my fingers. It was so soft. Her eyes sparked in surprise. I felt my heart pound. I would at last get my chance to show her how I truly felt. I leaned closer and felt her breath escape in a gasp. Her eyes fluttered. I was close enough to actually kiss her. I could almost taste it.

But then I looked up and ruined it. In the window's reflection, there was a man leaning against a car, openly staring. One of my mother's cronies. I knew it. She'd be checking up on me.

I pulled back from Cammie and swore under my breath. My mother was impatient, and she had ruined the first day I had been happy in a long while. Cammie looked hurt. She glanced over my shoulder, and then I heard a shrill voice.

"Oh my gosh! Cammie, is that you? Hi, Cammie, I'm so glad you two are here!" The little blonde girl, DeeDee, pulls Cammie into an embrace that I had just been rudely interrupted from. When the small girl lets go of Cammie, I notice that Jimmy is standing a few feet away, staring at Cammie. But Jimmy wasn't the worst of my problems. The man on the corner had disappeared,

I took a step closer to Cammie, not wanting her to get away from me, falling into my mother's hands or to approaching Jimmy. But as I tried to stand near her, she stepped away and hung her head.

Did she not want to kiss me? Did she still like Jimmy? I didn't even think of that! I was stupid. She looked up at him and jealousy surged through my veins. But DeeDee grabbed Jimmy's hand and they started strolling down the street, back to the parade and we followed. I was torn between fear and jealousy. Who was a bigger threat, Jimmy or my mom?

Cammie stood on her toes to reach my ear and I expected her to explain our almost-kiss and how I wouldn't have a chance. I was prepared for my heart to be crushed. Instead, she whispered, "Hey, you're gonna think I'm crazy."

I stopped myself from audibly laughing. Crazy may or may not be the exact word I would use to describe her. "A little late for that, Gallagher girl." I added a smirk for emphasis.

"You haven't seen anyone following us, have you?" She noticed the man, too. That wasn't a good sign.

"You mean besides your roommates?" I laughed, trying to hide my absolute fear that my mother would take Cammie away. Maybe Cammie had seen someone else.

"Yeah. Besides them."

"No. I haven't seen anyone on our tail. Why?"

"The guy. The blue jacket." DeeDee turned, noticing our hushed tones. "Don't you think he's _toasty_ in that heavy coat?" I turned slowly around, and noticed that the man from earlier was following us. Cammie raised her eyebrows at me. And now, I knew for certain that my mother had sent him. I'd seen him before. He was a favorite of her team. One of the best. The most dangerous.

"What about him?"

"The jacket's reversible. Ten minutes ago he was wearing it the other way. Do you think a lot of regular guys in Roseville take the time to reverse their jackets?" We halted, and stared into a window full of clothes. But we were looking onto the reflection. Cammie had noticed the jacket. She'd better than I had given her credit for. She was too good. And my mother knew that. She'd sent one of her elite agents to take her away.

Unless the agent was here for me. My mother wasn't too happy with my "relationship" with Cammie. Me or Cammie, who would get a visit from a notorious terrorist today? Frankly, neither option seemed too great right now.

"Look at that guy, Gallagher Girl," I lowered my voice. "He's a mustard disaster waiting to happen. I bet you he's got a big stain on the other side." I chuckled nervously. I hoped Cammie couldn't hear my heart pounding out of my chest.

"Now what are you two chatting about?" DeeDee stopped several yards away and turned to face us, her smile still as wide as when I first met her.

"Cammie's trying to convince me that I should recognize the guy in the blue jacket." I looked into Cammie's eyes. I wanted her to stay safe, away from my mother. "But I've never seen him before in my life." _Please don't go running away._

But as soon as I thought that, she stepped away and latched onto DeeDee's arm. "I've got to use the restroom." No. She couldn't go.

The man vanished once again. "I'll walk with you," I reached out for her hand.

"No." She stepped back. "It's a girl thing." The blonde girl giggled and they both skittered off. I knew I was in trouble. Jimmy looked back to me and shrugged his shoulders as if to say: "What will you do? They're girls."

Well, Cammie was a Gallagher Girl. There was so much that could go wrong.

•*~*•*~*•*~*•*~*•

**So, end A/N, per usual… My current favorite song is "Monster" by Imagine Dragons, and I think that it also describes Zach's situation well…. So go give it a listen. **

**My story for today: My history class is doing a unit on western expansion and certain groups who influenced America positively or negatively. (This is the assignment I complained to many in a PM about. Y'all remember?) So I chose the group of the cowboys. I had five pages of notes, ready for my presentation (To small groups… I can't do large scale public speaking….)* and I found out today that my presentation would have to be three minutes long. So, today in TAG I had to smush everything I had on onto one page. I had about 1,500 words, but after I only had around 700. Yay. All that work down the toilet.**

***Ooh! Look! A follow-up story! I had mock trial on Wednesday. And apparently, 150 kids showed up to watch. NO! What? The other cases last week presented in front of 30, but noooo I had to talk in front of 150 kids. My friend saw me shaking (she was in the second row) and I couldn't say "developmental" and all the people were in the front saying "development" and I'm like NO! I can't get out the last syllable…. Soooo yeah. 150 kids. I hate public speaking….**

**Does anyone read all of my A/N every time? Because if you do, I applaud you. And here's a cookie (::) And, for those who reached the bottom of my A/N, I would like to say I'm sorry for rambling a lot. A LOT. (::) (::) (::) Cookies!**


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